


Better Living Through Stark Industries

by badndngirl, drfitzmonster



Category: Agent Carter (TV)
Genre: Angst, Conception, Established Relationship, F/F, Pining, Pregnancy, Queer Families, married!Cartinelli, pregnant!Angie
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-09
Updated: 2016-08-04
Packaged: 2018-04-13 17:55:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4531530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badndngirl/pseuds/badndngirl, https://archiveofourown.org/users/drfitzmonster/pseuds/drfitzmonster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Howard informs Peggy that he's figured out a way for she and Angie to have a biological child together. Feelings ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Peggy sat at her desk, which, while large and finely carved, was piled high with files and papers. She closed her eyes and gently massaged her temples, trying to clear her head. Of all the perils she expected to encounter as Director of SHIELD, it had never occurred to her that voluminous paperwork would be by far the most dastardly. So when Howard’s sharp voice pierced her reverie, she was almost glad, although she did not relish dealing with the fallout from the serial womanizer’s latest escapade.

“Guess what, Carter.” Howard paused for effect, “I can get Angie pregnant.”

Peggy did not look up, but swiftly picked up a paperweight and chucked it at Howard’s head. He ducked, deftly, as if he were quite used to having things thrown at him.

“Hey, hey, now, that almost hit me!”

“Yes, Howard, that was the point. Now what in the hell were you saying about my wife?” Peggy glared at him, making it perfectly clear that she was in no mood for his bawdy humor.

“Look, just hear me out.” Howard moved to perch himself on the edge of Peggy's desk, but thought the better of it and took a seat in a chair, crossing his legs. "Stark Industries has developed a method of gametic transfer that would allow Angie's eggs to be fertilized with your genetic material."

"What?" Peggy blinked rapidly, not quite sure she understood what she just heard.

"They’ll turn your floaters into swimmers,” Howard said, moving back, defensively, unsure if his comment would draw further ire from Peggy in the form of another object thrown at him.

“That is highly inappropriate, and I’ll have you know—” Peggy began as she stood, preparing to launch into a proper lecture about behavior in the workplace.

“Peg, you're going to be a father!" Howard exclaimed, chuckling and slapping his palm onto Peggy's desk. Peggy halted her tirade and dropped back into her chair.

"I don’t understand." Peggy stammered, quite overwhelmed. Angie _had_ always wanted children, but it was something Peggy had written off as fanciful, if not impossible.

"What's not to understand?"

"All of it, Howard." Peggy sighed and shuffled papers around on her desk nervously. "This is not possible. None of it is possible. You can't just barge in here and say that to me."

"Peg, I thought you'd be happy." Howard reached out for Peggy's arm and gripped it gently.

Peggy looked up at him, noting his pained expression. This was the first time she'd ever seen him look genuinely concerned without a hint of smarminess. "I can't be a father—mother—whatever I'd be."

"Why the hell not?"

"I just can't." Peggy's eyes began to well up with tears. She quickly knocked a stack of papers off of her desk to give herself the chance to duck and dry her eyes before Howard noticed. It was, however, too late.

"Peggy, come on. Why are you crying?" Howard jumped up and helped her gather the various classified documents that were now scattered all over the floor.

"I'm not crying," Peggy muttered, sniffling, giving herself away. "The Director of SHIELD does not cry."

"Okay, okay, you're right." Howard acquiesced, placing a jumbled clump of papers back on Peggy's desk. "You're not crying. But I know you want this."

"Do not presume to know what I want, Howard Stark," Peggy said, her tone flat but tinged with anger. She had gracefully shifted back into her impassive self, her moment of weakness fleeting.

"That's my girl." Howard said, smiling. He knew that would rile her further.

"I am nobody's girl. And I am certainly not _yours_.”

"Of course you’re not,” Howard replied, sighing. “Look. I know Angie's been down in the dumps lately. And you’ve seen the way she dotes on Edwin and Anna’s kids. Hell, she was up here last week fawning over a picture of Agent What’s-his-name’s unfortunate-looking little monster.”

Peggy scowled but said nothing.

“It’s obvious, Peg. She wants a baby. Well, now you can give it to her," Howard smirked triumphantly.

"Howard, I'm not sure that’s a good idea."

"Peggy, come on. You owe her. Now, go pick up some champagne and flowers and tell her the good news. You can thank me later," Howard winked and then quickly exited before Peggy could protest.

Peggy sat, staring blankly at the empty doorway through which Howard had disappeared. The man was mad, asking her to do something like that. Wasn’t he? She thought of all the reasons having a baby with Angie would not work, and they were many, all very sensible and rational. Peggy was nothing if not pragmatic. But there was something that kept tripping her up in her attempt to logic her way through this problem. It was Angie.

Angie whom she loved so fiercely and for whom she would make any sacrifice. Angie wanted a baby. And wouldn’t this bring them closer, creating a life from almost nothing? Peggy could still scarcely believe it was actually possible. A child. _Their_ child. Who would it favor? Would it have Angie’s eyes, or her perfectly lopsided grin? Would it have her laugh?

Peggy’s mind went on like this, mulling, analyzing, weighing, until well past sunset. The building was deserted, and all the agents and support staff had gone home.

“Damn,” Peggy muttered as she glanced at the clock in the corner of her desk. 9:45 pm. All the stores were closed. “Well, I’ve bollocksed this up, haven’t I?” she said quietly.

She stood and shrugged a crick out of her neck and shoulders, assessing her options moving forward. “Ah,” she said happily. She would raid the stash of alcohol usually reserved for meetings with uncooperative government higher-ups. Then she’d simply pluck a small bouquet of flowers from one of the many vases the interns had undoubtedly placed in the lobby. Problem solved. One small problem, at least.

 

* * *

 

Peggy felt an almost crippling sense of dread as she approached Howard’s house— _she and Angie's_ house, she corrected herself. Howard had given his stately manse to them as a wedding present. That was three years ago, and it still felt strange to Peggy that the place belonged to them. Not only were they bequeathed the estate, but also the services of the rather large staff required to maintain it, all paid for by Howard. But that was just how he was; he always had a trick up his sleeve. It was his considerable wealth and influence that enabled Peggy and Angie to obtain an honest to goodness, signed by a judge marriage license. She still wasn’t certain how he had managed to pull that one off.

Peggy exited her vehicle and marched up the steps, but she froze in place at the front door, hand on the doorknob. She breathed a heavy sigh, swallowed the lump in her throat, and entered. She found Angie in the library sitting in a wingback chair, reading. Angie’s face brightened as she looked up to see Peggy standing in the doorway, but her expression fell when she noticed the bottle of champagne and the bouquet of flowers in her hands.

“What did you do? Where are you going?” Angie asked, narrowing her eyes. Flowers usually meant Peggy was leaving but could not tell Angie where she was going or how long she would be gone.

“Nothing, nowhere, I swear.” Peggy quickly set the gifts down on a table. She approached Angie, palms raised in supplication.

“I don’t believe you.” Angie eyed her suspiciously. Peggy knelt in front of Angie, taking her book from her hands and laying it on the floor, open.

“Angie…” Peggy took Angie’s hands and brought them to her lips, kissing them softly. Peggy could not look Angie in the eye.

“You’re starting to scare me, Pegs.”

“Angie,” Peggy took a deep breath. “Will you have my baby?”

Angie barked out a laugh. “Uh, last time I checked, English, we’re both women. That would be impossible.”

“What if it weren’t?”

“Are you feeling okay, Pegs?” Angie asked as she briefly laid the back of her hand against Peggy’s forehead.

“No, Angie, I’m serious.” Peggy let out an exasperated sigh. “What if I told you that it’s not impossible, that Howard figured out a way? Would you have my baby?”

“What? How?”

“Stark scientists, I don’t know how. Howard said they’ve ‘developed a method’ of some sort.” Peggy searched Angie’s face, trying to read her expression. Angie’s eyes were glassy, brimming with tears.

“Is this real?” Angie asked, sniffling. “How can this be real? It’s impossible.”

“You’ve seen some of the things Howard’s dreamed up, Ange. Is this so far-fetched?” Peggy brushed a strand of hair from Angie’s face, tucking it behind her ear. She could tell Angie was still struggling with the idea.

“It would be our baby? Half you and half me?” There was a tinge of desperation in Angie’s question.

“Yes. _Our_ baby,” Peggy said, and Angie began to cry. “Oh, my love, come here.” Peggy sat on the arm of the chair and embraced her tightly. Angie was sobbing so heavily she began to hiccough, but after a few moments she was able to compose herself enough to speak.

“I just never thought it was going to happen. I told myself not to want it.”

“I know you did, my sweet,” Peggy whispered, and she bent to kiss Angie’s forehead.

 

* * *

 

“I can’t let you do this.” Peggy stalked back and forth in their bedroom while Angie sat on their bed with an issue of _Harper’s_. It was the night before the procedure was scheduled. They were to be at Stark Labs at 9 am the next morning.

“What do you mean you can’t _let_ me?” Angie asked, dropping the magazine and crossing her arms across her chest.

“It’s too dangerous.” Peggy said as she stopped and turned to face Angie. “Howard is a reckless man.”

“I can’t believe you’re saying this to me right now.” Angie was buzzing with anger.

Peggy took a step closer. “I have to protect you. I can’t let anything happen to you.”

“Oh, so you’re allowed to go chasing aliens and Soviets all over Europe, getting shot at and—and blown up,” Angie stood and began gesticulating forcefully at Peggy. “All so you can live your dream of being the most powerful man in the world, but I have one thing, _one thing_ , that I want, and I can’t do it because you think I’ll get hurt.”

“Angie, I—“

Angie grabbed her magazine off the bed and flung it across the room, where it fluttered into the wall and landed on the ground with a dull thud. “I’m not finished!” she yelled. “You’re out saving the world. You have a purpose, and I’m here, alone. What do I have?”

“What about your book club? And your sewing ring?” Peggy knew she was grasping at straws but could not stop herself.

“My sewing _circle_? The one that I hate, and you know that I hate it, but I go sometimes because I’m desperate just to be around people. _That_ is your suggestion?”

“You could try acting again.”   

Angie bristled at that. “You and I both know that was never anything but a pipe dream,” she said, clenching her fists. “Besides, it’s not enough. None of it is enough.” Tears streamed down her face. “You’re gone so often sometimes I feel like I don’t even have you.”

“Oh, darling, I’m so sorry.” Peggy approached Angie, taking her hand and drawing her in close before she added, “I just can’t.”

“You just can’t what?” Angie asked through gritted teeth. She pushed Peggy away. “Did you say that to Steve before they pumped him full of that serum and irradiated him?”

“It was different with Steve,” Peggy said as she reached out for Angie’s arm.

“I see. Different.” Angie batted her hand away and retreated to the bathroom. “Different because you actually respected him!” she shouted, slamming the door.

Peggy stood, stone still, frantically trying to figure out how everything had gone so wrong so quickly. “Fuck,” she muttered, running her hands through her hair. This was not good, not good at all. Peggy cast her gaze upward and ran through everything that had just happened, determined to pinpoint the moment everything went arse up. It was a fruitless effort.

Peggy went to the bathroom door. She leaned her forehead against the wood, palms against the door on either side of her face. “Angie, I do respect you. I just, I mean…” Peggy trailed off, defeated. She turned, resting her back against the door, and slowly slid to the floor. “Angie, please talk to me,” she begged.

Silence.

“Angie, I—I,” Peggy stammered. She stopped, took a deep breath, and began to speak again, her voice cracking, “Angie, I never _loved_ Steve. Not like I love you.”

A few breathless moments passed by before Peggy heard a muted “What?” from the other side of the door. It creaked open slightly and she looked up at a sliver of Angie’s face through the crack. Peggy could see that Angie’s skin was pale and splotchy, her eyes bleary from crying.

Angie opened the door fully. “What do you mean you never loved him?”

“I didn’t love Steve,” Peggy said. “I loved the idea of Steve, of Captain America. I loved fighting by his side. But I didn’t love him. I never got the chance.”

“Oh, Peg,” Angie helped Peggy up and they both sat on the edge of their bed, facing each other.

“Steve and I were never anything. We could have been something, but we weren’t.” Peggy stopped, obviously trying to blink back the tears welling in her eyes. She cleared her throat. “And then I met you, and Steve just can’t compare."

Angie stroked the side of Peggy’s face gently. She was taken aback by how vulnerable Peggy appeared, no longer the fearless and indomitable force of nature Angie was used to.  “You have to let me do this," she said.

“I’m afraid,” Peggy whispered. “What if something happens to you?” A hot, fat tear slid down her cheek and dropped onto the collar of her blouse.

“Every time you step out that door I am terrified that I’ll never see you again. Every single time. I don’t sleep when you’re gone. I lie awake at night, imagining all the terrible things that could be happening to you,” Angie took hold of Peggy’s hand, gripping it tightly. “But I don’t try to stop you because I know how much your job means to you. I know I couldn’t stop you no matter how hard I tried.”

"I can't lose you," Peggy said as she began to cry. "I can't, Angie." Peggy cried convulsively, finally letting herself go. She cried for the burden of eight years of what ifs. She cried for all the guilt she felt for having moved on, for loving someone, for thinking about Steve less and less as the years went by. Mostly she he cried for the fear that grasped at her heart.

Peggy pulled Angie close, desperate for something to hold on to. She clutched at Angie’s back, locking her in a tight embrace. Panic was keening through her mind, ringing in her ears. She was here, now, though, right? As long as Peggy could feel the warmth of Angie’s skin, she could stave off the blind terror that was sucking the air from her lungs.

“Uh, Peggy,” Angie choked out. “I can’t breathe. You’re kind of crushing me.”

Peggy released her. She lowered her head, wiping tears from her face. “Look at me,” Peggy laughed weakly. “I’m a sad, snotty mess.”

“You are, English,” Angie said tenderly. “You’re the loveliest mess I’ve ever seen.” She cupped the side of Peggy’s face with her hand briefly before moving back to lean against a pillow at the head of the bed. She pulled Peggy with her. “Aren’t you tired?”

“Of what?” Peggy murmured, curling herself into Angie’s body and resting her head on Angie’s chest.

“Being Director Carter all the time.” Angie kissed the top of her head and gently stroked her hair. “Don’t you ever just want to be Peggy?”

“Of course I do,” she wrapped her arm around Angie’s waist. Peggy did want that, but it was far too dangerous. People died when she let her guard down. She’d staked her life, her career, the fate of the world even, on her ability to remain in control.

If she were being honest, though, she’d admit that she’d been utterly, terrifyingly out of control from the moment she first saw Angie all those years ago. Peggy shuddered, thinking of all the unnecessary risks she’d taken over the course of their six-year relationship. Worse than that, however, was the sharp twinge of sorrow Peggy felt when she imagined a life without her, a life alone.

As terrifying as that seemed now, it had always been what she expected for herself. Peggy was not the marrying type. She thought herself much like the Virgin Queen, stoically devoted to a cause much larger than herself. She was that—devoted—for quite a long time. At first it was the SAS, then the SSR, and now, SHIELD.

And then there was Angie. Bright-eyed Angie with the honey-colored hair. Slim-hipped, lanky Angie who was hopelessly clumsy and hopelessly sentimental. Angie who still, after all these years, kissed Peggy greedily and made love to her with a distilled urgency that made her shiver just thinking about it.

With Angie there, soft and warm, pressing solidly against her, _dulce et decorum_ began to fade away. In the years since the War the zeal that had propelled her waned, and anymore chasing after multinational crime syndicates with Asgardian weapons tech was exhausting, not exciting. Angie, though, Angie still left Peggy twitterpated. She experienced the same feeling of galvanism they had the very first night they ever made love, still there, strong as ever, after all this time.

 

* * *

 

Peggy and Angie reclined side by side on a chaise in one of the smaller sitting rooms. Afternoon sunlight filtered through the tall leaded-glass windows that looked out on the perfectly manicured, perfectly still grounds of the estate.  Peggy was smoking a pipe and reading the _Times_. She was still dressed for work but she had abandoned her heels and shed her stuffy wool jacket. Her tie hung loose and off-center.

“The Tories are at it again,” she muttered around the stem of her pipe, letting it dangle momentarily from her mouth as she flicked at the offending article with her finger. She held the paper up for Angie, who shifted restlessly against her.

“When will we be able to tell?” Angie asked. She hadn’t gotten a decent night’s sleep in the ten days since the procedure. She was brimming with nervous energy, and it came out her fingers as she compulsively smoothed the fabric of her skirt against her legs.

“Tell what, dear?” Peggy set her pipe and newspaper aside before it dawned on her. “Oh, yes, of course. Well, I believe that symptoms start to appear as early as two weeks after exposure.”

“Exposure? You make it sound like a disease.” Angie let out a heavy sigh and leaned into Peggy. She took Peggy’s hand, their fingers interlocking. “What if it doesn’t work? What if I can’t have a baby, after all?”

“If anyone can make it happen, it’s Stark,” Peggy said softly, lifting their grasped hands to kiss Angie’s fingers.

“Peggy?” Angie asked, her voice tremulous and plaintive.

“Hmm?”

“Do you think I’ll be a good mother—if it works, I mean?”

“Oh, my love,” Peggy turned to look at Angie. “You will be a wonderful mother. And it _will_ work. If Howard can turn puny little Steve Rogers into Captain America, he can do this for us.” Peggy cupped the side of Angie’s face with her hand, running her thumb over Angie’s bottom lip. Smiling, she added, “Our baby will be so very lucky to have you as a mother.”

“Really?” Angie asked, her eyes gleaming with tears. She smiled weakly.

“Of course, my darling,” Peggy said, drawing Angie into her arms.

Peggy’s hands meandered down to Angie’s abdomen, and there they rested possessively. Peggy imagined what it might be like to feel the swell of life inside Angie’s belly. She hadn’t realized until that very moment how much she wanted a baby, one that was theirs and only theirs. It was something she had never even thought to want before the day Howard told her it was possible. How quickly it had gone from a flight of fancy to a sharp ache of longing in her chest.

“Can you imagine it, Angie?” Peggy gripped Angie’s arms and arranged them as if they were cradling an infant. She rocked them gently back and forth. “Before you know it she will be here, so small and helpless, mewling like a cat.”

“A cat?” Angie asked, laughing quizzically.

“Is that not what babies sound like?”

“Not really.” Angie pondered for a moment, then added, “Maybe sometimes.”

“Yes, well,” Peggy kissed along the side of Angie’s neck, “you’re obviously the expert on the subject.”

At that, Angie leapt up from the chaise and launched herself toward the doorway into the hall. She disappeared without a word.

“Wait, no, Angie! I didn’t mean anything by—“ Peggy began, until she heard the distinct sound of Angie vomiting into a wastebasket. She smiled. “See! I told you it would work!” Peggy called after her as she rose to go comfort her poor pregnant wife.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took me so long to get this out. I hope you like it.

“Angie, we can NOT tell your family.” Peggy set the dossier she’d been reading on the desk in her home office, which she had been working out of more and more lately, and made meaningful, sustained eye contact with her pregnant wife. “I’m serious.”

Angie said nothing, but eyed Peggy skeptically. She was seated on Peggy’s desk, adjacent to her pile of papers, swinging her legs back and forth idly. Of late she had taken to chaperoning Peggy while she was doing paperwork at home. Angie had slogged through the first few months of her pregnancy, and the constant nausea and fatigue was finally beginning to subside. It was a welcome relief, but she was becoming restless.

“Angie, what would we tell them? ‘Mrs. Martinelli, I turned your beloved youngest daughter into a Stark science experiment—the side effects of which are completely unclear at this point—so that I could impregnate her’? Come on, Angie,” Peggy threw her hands up, “somehow I do not think it will be well received.”

“It will be ok, Pegs.” She placed her hand on Peggy’s arm reassuringly.

“You bloody well know that it will not.”

“Keeping this a secret, it’s not going to work. It’s only been a month since the last time I was over there and they are already starting to ask questions. You cannot escape my family, Margaret Carter.”

“You seriously underestimate my abilities.” She cocked an eyebrow triumphantly.

“That’s not the point, Peg.” Angie withdrew her hand and frowned. “I can’t lie anymore. I won’t. Not about us, not about our baby.”

“But darling,” Peggy scooted her chair so she was sitting between Angie’s legs and reached her hands around to gently grip the backs of Angie’s knees. “Everything’s been going so well, I just don’t want anything to ruin it.”

“Everything has been going so well, _for you_.” Angie said, leaning back and crossing her arms. “You don’t have to lie about this, or hide. You are the boss, and everyone knows you have a pregnant wife, and they either don’t care or are too afraid of you to say anything.” She paused, finally adding, “It’s not so easy for me.” In one smooth motion Angie removed her legs from Peggy’s grasp, turned, and slipped from the desk. She crossed the room to look out the window.

Peggy could hear Angie weeping quietly. She abandoned her desk and joined her wife by the window. Peggy approached cautiously, placing her hands on Angie’s shoulders gently before moving in close against her back and wrapping her arms around her.

Angie sniffled and sunk back into Peggy. “I hate lying to them. I never used to lie. Not before you. And now there’s this huge part of my life that they know nothing about. We’re keeping it secret like it’s something we should be ashamed of. Peggy, we’re married. We love each other. And now, we’re having a baby. It’s not fair to my family to keep the truth from them. It’s not fair to me.”

“But what if they reject us? I can’t bear to see you get hurt.” Peggy found Angie’s hands by her sides and squeezed them before gently spinning her around so they could look at one another. She cupped Angie’s face with her hand, wiped a tear off her cheek with her thumb. “This thing that we have is so precious. I want to protect it, is all.” Peggy sighed. A single stubborn tear grew from her eye and slid down her face.

Angie took Peggy’s hand from where it still rested against her cheek. She kissed her palm, the pads of her fingers, and her knuckles, in turn. “Oh, Pegs. I know you’re just trying to protect us, but we have to give them the chance to do the right thing. And if it’s not something they can handle, well, then at least we’ll know. But we have to tell them.”

Angie’s voice was so even and unshakable that Peggy knew she was right, and for the first time in a very long time she was legitimately scared. Sure, Peggy was used to the rapid sinking in her stomach and the icy jolt of adrenaline that was her body signaling she was in physical danger. She felt that on a regular basis, but this was different. This was something Peggy could not muscle, manipulate, or maneuver her way through, and she was truly terrified.

 

* * *

 

“Oh, Peggy, you didn’t.” Angie groaned unhappily when she noticed Peggy’s bedraggled figure hovering in shadow in the doorway. “The dinner is tomorrow night!”

Angie could tell right away she had been in some sort of a dust up. Peggy’s starched white blouse was stained with spots of blood and what was possibly motor oil, and the sleeve of her jacket was ripped at the shoulder. _Christ_ , Angie thought. Of course it would happen the night before they were supposed to have dinner with Angie’s family and tell them of their unique situation.

Angie gasped, horrified, when Peggy approached and sat on the bed next to her and Angie could actually see the extent of her injuries. A dark, plum-colored bruise bloomed from Peggy’s left eye. It was accompanied by a sizeable gash cutting across her cheekbone. Worse than that was the split in her bottom lip, which was red and swollen, the surrounding area mottled with bruises.

“Jesus, Peg. What happened?” Angie had gone pale. She reached out to Peggy, but stopped short of actually touching her. “Are you ok?”

“I’m fine, dear,” Peggy said, patting Angie on the arm dismissively.

Angie frowned and jumped up to retrieve her first aid kit and a hand mirror from the bathroom. When she returned she held the mirror up.

“Oh my,” Peggy said, sucking her teeth, upon the sight of her own face. “That is quite worse than I imagined,” she probed her wounded lip with her tongue, cringing immediately, “but it’s nothing that won’t resolve itself in a few days time.”

“Peggy,” Angie said with an exasperated sigh as she flipped open the brown case that housed her medical supplies, “we are having dinner at Ma’s _tomorrow_.” She pulled out a bottle of rubbing alcohol and some cotton balls. “And no amount of makeup can hide that shiner from my mother, not to mention your lip. Oh, Pegs. What am I going to do with you?”

“It will be fine, Ange. Your mother loves me.”

“She loves you, eh?” Angie said with an irritated smirk. “Why the sudden change of heart? Yesterday you were convinced it would be disastrous.”

Peggy shrugged nonchalantly. “I suppose I’ve gained some perspective.”

“Perspective,” Angie leaned in closer to Peggy, recoiling slightly at the sharp smell of liquor on her breath. “You’re drunk, aren’t you?”

“I’m not drunk,” Peggy insisted. “I’ve merely taken advantage of the analgesic properties of single malt scotch.”

“Of course,” Angie muttered, shaking her head minutely. She soaked a cotton ball in alcohol and held it up. “Close your eyes.”

“Angie,” Peggy whined, her eyes fluttering shut, “I hardly need you passing judgment on me for the therapeutic application of spirits.” Her pristine eye opened briefly so she could glimpse Angie’s expression, which was not wholly unfavorable. “Besides, I’ve determined the ideal dosage for optimum palliative effects with minimum intoxication.”

“Oh really?” Angie dabbed at Peggy’s cheek with the cotton, causing her to wince and growl through her teeth.

“Bleeding hell, Angie! That hurts like the devil.” she grabbed Angie’s wrist before she could make contact with the wound again.

“Stop it, you big baby,” Angie said, slipping out of Peggy’s grasp. “You’re as bad as a man, honestly.”

“I am not!” Peggy practically squealed.

“Then hush and quit your squirming,” Angie demanded, gripping Peggy’s shoulder to steady her.

“I am not like a man…” Peggy grumbled quietly. She did, however, acquiesce to Angie’s ministrations and allow her to clean the blood off her face and tend to the gashes on her lip and cheek. She uttered no further protestations, and Angie, by this point in their relationship an expert in minor first aid, completed her task in no time.

"There. Good as new..." Angie scrutinized her handiwork, "almost," she added, frowning. "Your lip might need stitches.”

“Nonsense,” Peggy waved her off.

“Well, you’ll probably have a scar."

"Good. It'll match the one on the other side."

"You are just incorrigible," Angie said, laughing softly.

Peggy tried for a self-satisfied smile, but it quickly turned into a grimace as her damaged lip stretched against her teeth.

“Serves you right. Now let’s get you out of these clothes you’ve ruined.”

 

* * *

 

When Peggy woke the next morning, her entire body suffused with pain, two things became exceedingly clear: one, that she just could not take a punch like she used to, and two, that she had imbibed too much scotch the night previous.  “Angie?” Peggy moaned, not sure if Angie was still in bed or even still in the room.

“What is it, Peg?” Angie called from an overstuffed chair in the corner.

“What time is it?”

“It’s after 10, babe.”

“Oh, hell. I should really get to the office.” Peggy tried to sit up. She was moving too quickly, however, and she cried out and dropped back onto the bed. She tried again—much more gingerly this time—and was able to get herself upright and propped against her pillow.

“No.” Angie stood and crossed the floor to the bedside.

“Angie, I—“ Peggy began to protest.

“I already called your assistant. You don’t have any meetings with generals or prime ministers today.”

“Sod it, Angie. What did you do?” Peggy covered her face with her hand.

“Nothing that wasn’t well within my rights. I told him that you belong to me today. That they get you almost every other stinking day, but today, you are mine.” Angie punctuated her statement with a firm nod.

“And what did he say to that?” Peggy asked, obviously mortified.

“He said, ‘Yes, ma’am.’”

“Of course. He is terrified of you.” Peggy said with a sigh.

Angie looked stricken. “He was on that balcony for ten minutes. And I let him right back in as soon as he told me what I wanted to know. It’s not my fault he was being obstinate.”

“To be fair, Angie, he was told he’d be shot if he shared that particular piece of intel with anyone.” Peggy smiled. It had been an amusing turn of events, she must admit.

“I’m not just anyone.” Angie pouted.

“You’re certainly not, my love.”

Angie grinned and handed her two aspirin and a glass of water from her nightstand. “Take these. I’m going to make you some breakfast, and you’re going for a soak in the tub.”

 

* * *

 

Peggy sat at her vanity, regarding herself skeptically in the mirror. Although her hair was fastidiously pinned, her makeup artfully applied, she still looked like she’d been the lucky recipient of several blows to the face.

Angie walked up behind Peggy, placing a hand on her shoulder. “It’s going to be ok, Peg. We’ll say you were in an accident at work.” She straightened the collar of Peggy’s blouse nervously.

“An accident,” Peggy scowled. “At the telephone company where your family thinks I work.”

“Well, I mean…”

“They’re going to think I was involved in a street brawl.”

“Is that not what happened?” Angie couldn’t help the barb.

“No, it certainly is not.” Peggy huffed. “We were involved in a negotiation, and it was imperative I make him feel he had the upper hand.”

“…by letting him punch you repeatedly.”

“It worked,” Peggy stated, matter-of-factly.

“Good for you. You can tell my mother that’s what happened to your face: intense negotiations at the phone company.”

“Yes, I’m sure she’ll believe me straight away and make no further inquiries.” Peggy began to add something further, but stopped herself. She stood, turning to face Angie. Peggy looked, for once, wistful and contrite, a rare affectation. “I am sorry, darling,” she said quietly, taking Angie by the hips and pulling her close. “I should have been more careful.”

“You can’t go around putting yourself in danger like that anymore.” Angie admonished, her tone and expression uncharacteristically grave.

Peggy stifled a giggle. “I do so love it when you're cross with me.”

“I’m being serious, Peg,” Angie said, frowning and releasing a deep sigh. “You have the baby to think about,” she paused. “Besides, you are the Director. What good is being the big boss if you can't make other people do the dirty work for you?"

Peggy opened her mouth as if to speak, but paused, thinking. She finally answered, "It's my work. It's important to me."

"That's your answer? Because it's your work." Angie's face darkened, and she backed away.  "What about me? Aren't I important?"

"Yes of course you are. That's why I gave you a baby." Peggy reached out hesitantly, but dropped her hand when she saw Angie stiffen and move further away.

"Oh. You _gave_ me a baby. Because I'm a petulant child who needs appeasing? And I'm just supposed to shut up and take care of the baby while you're running around getting your face knocked in?"

"Well, yes. I mean, no. I mean..."

"What _do_ you mean, Peggy?"

"I, I—”

"This was never supposed to be about _me_. This was supposed to be our baby, not some distraction to keep me busy so you can do whatever you want!"

Peggy said nothing.

"You know what, Margaret Carter? I'll make this easy for you. You can just go, keep playing at war with your little soldier friends. I don't need you." Angie crossed the floor of their bedroom to leave, stopping in the doorway. She turned to Peggy, and said, swallowing back tears, "I can raise this baby by myself. Apparently that was what I was going to do anyway!"

 

* * *

 

The train ride to from Manhattan to Brooklyn took 45 minutes, giving Angie plenty of time to try and figure out what to do with the rest of her life. She could move back to home, that would probably be the easiest thing. Her mother could watch the baby, once it was born, and she could go back to waitressing. She could work double shifts until she could afford a small apartment. It would be difficult, for sure, but not impossible. Besides. Deep down, she had always worried that the life she had found with Peggy was too good to be true. Girls from Brooklyn didn’t marry women like Peggy. They didn’t live in Howard Stark’s mansion. Girls from Brooklyn got knocked up and left behind. But there was no time to dwell on such things. She needed to make a plan.

By the time she reached her stop she’d decided that she would tell her mother everything tonight, and tomorrow she would go down to the L&L to beg for her old job back. If she were lucky the owner of the automat would take pity on her and she’d be able to work for a couple of months at least, before she’d be too far along to wait tables.

As the train came to a squealing halt, Angie took a deep breath, screwing up her courage for what was about to take place over dinner. If she could just get over this first hurdle she would be ok. She made her way to the exit and stepped carefully down from the train onto the platform, her mind swirling with the question of how she would tell her family not only that she was pregnant, but that the father was a woman, one who just left her.

Angie looked down at her hands. They were trembling. She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to steel herself against a wave of nausea, certainly stress induced. Her nerves calmed, at least momentarily, Angie cast her gaze upon the throng of people milling about the train platform, attempting to pinpoint the best route through the crowd.

And then Angie saw her. Peggy. A desperate sob escaped from Angie’s throat, and, scared as she was, she could not stop herself from moving in Peggy’s direction. As she got closer she saw that Peggy had been crying, her eyes puffy and rimmed red, her lashes pasted together.

“Angie...” Peggy’s voice was shaky, thin. Her characteristic confidence absent. She looked absolutely frail.

Angie stopped in front of Peggy but did not speak. She did not know what to say.

“I’m so sorry,” Peggy began slowly, but her words built momentum and began to tumble over one another. “You’re right. I’ve been reckless and neglectful and patronizing and I took you for granted. I’ve been a fool, my darling. I can’t bear the thought of living without you.” She began to cry. “I’ll do anything. I’ll stay out of the field. I’ll, I’ll resign. Whatever it takes.  I want to be here for you and our baby. I love the both of you more than my own life. I don’t ever want to hurt you again.”

“Oh, Pegs,” Angie said, reaching out. But she faltered, let her hand drop back down to her side. “Do you really mean all that?” Tears bloomed from her eyes.

“Yes, my love, of course.” Peggy moved closer hesitantly. “I’ll quit tomorrow. I don’t need to work. We’ve plenty of money saved up. I can stay home and take care of you. And I can look for a job— a desk job— once the baby comes.”

Angie grabbed Peggy by her lapels and pulled her into a kiss. It was a risk to kiss in public like that, but Angie didn’t care. As she brought their lips together, tasting the mingling salt from their tears, she felt Peggy wince.

“Oh no, your lip!” Angie exclaimed, releasing Peggy and putting on a concerned frown. “I forgot you have that terrible split!”

“Damn my lip,” Peggy said firmly. She leaned in to kiss Angie, moving quickly from a light peck to something deep and almost forceful.

They were desperate, the both of them, to feel connected once again. They kissed, unabashedly, pressing themselves and their lives back together, until Peggy became concerned people were beginning to stop and stare. She drew Angie along by the hand. They made a hasty exit from the platform, retreating to the safety of their car, where they kissed again, sloppily and wantonly, until they were both overcome and had to stop and catch their breath. They sat back in their respective seats, catching their faint reflections in the windshield. Peggy couldn’t help but laugh. Angie looked beautiful and full of life, while Peggy still looked like she’d recently taken up amateur boxing. _What a pair_ , she thought to herself.

“What’s so funny?” asked Angie.

“Nothing,” Peggy said, kissing Angie’s hand. “Come, Mrs. Carter. Let’s go tell your family.”


	3. Chapter 3

They sat in awkward silence, Angie and Peggy on one side of the dinner table, Angie’s grandmother, Vittoria, and brother, Joey, on the other, Angie’s mother, Maria, occupying the seat at the head. They all stared into their plates, pushing their food around, save for Joey, who ate with vigor and wore a satisfied smirk. Peggy took a generous sip of wine and cleared her throat, about to speak.

But Angie’s mother beat her to it, “Well, I just can’t believe something like this would happen, and on your way home from work!” Maria gestured towards Peggy. “It’s not safe for a girl to be out alone at night.” She looked at Peggy, thoughtfully, before adding, “You ought to find yourself a nice husband, then you could quit the phone company and focus on more important things.”

Peggy grimaced, quickly hiding it under a painfully composed smile. She glanced at Angie, who glared at her, silently begging her not to be cheeky. Turning directly to Angie’s mother, Peggy exhaled heavily and said, “Yes. About that--”

“Peggy doesn’t work for the phone company!” Angie panicked, knowing Peggy was about to unceremoniously confess everything. She thought it too indelicate to just lay it all out with no prologue or preamble. Peggy had two modes of being, one a scalpel, the other a sledgehammer, and Angie knew her surgically precise diplomacy was reserved for work hours only. There had to be a better way to gently inform her family. So she opted to lead with a lesser evil.

“Margaret, you quit your job?” Maria asked, a frown of concern creasing her face. “You better have something else lined up. How will you make the rent?”

“No, Ma,” Angie let out a vexed sigh. “Peggy never worked for the phone company.” She paused, looking to Peggy, who nodded and placed her hand briefly on Angie’s arm. “She works for Howard Stark.”

A muffled laugh rose up from the far end of the table. It was Joey. “I knew that stuff about the phone company was bunk.”

“Zip it!” Angie said through gritted teeth, staring daggers at her younger brother.

“Howard Stark?” Maria asked, pouring herself another glass of wine. “Is he the man who gets his picture in the paper with a new floozie every week?”

Peggy rolled her eyes. “That’s the one.”

Maria tutted, setting the wine bottle back on the table with a thud. “I hope you’re careful. A pretty girl like you needs to protect her virtues from a man like that.”

Peggy couldn’t help but laugh, and Angie almost spit out her wine. Once Peggy had gathered herself, she said, “I assure you, Mrs. Martinelli, that Howard Stark is getting nowhere near my… virtues.” Peggy took a deep breath, ready to seize the opportunity to segue into their confession. “On the subject of Howard Stark, Angie and I have something very important to tell you--”

Angie kicked her under the table. Peggy stopped talking and shot an irritated glance at Angie, before turning back to continue.

“Peggy can I see you in the kitchen?” Angie tugged at Peggy’s sleeve. “ _Please_.”

“Excuse us, Mrs. Martinelli.” Peggy stood and she and Angie quickly retired to the kitchen to whisper angrily at one another.

“Angie, what is the matter?” Peggy gripped her arm. “Aren’t we supposed to be telling them everything?” She gestured towards the dining room. “Why do you keep stopping me?”

Angie leaned back against the kitchen counter, sighing. “It’s just, I want to make sure it’s the right time.”

“Right time?”

“Yeah, you know. After everyone’s eaten, so they’re satisfied, but not too full, and then they’ve had some wine, so they’re calm-- but not too much wine, of course-- that’s when we tell them. It’s when they’ll be the most receptive.”

Peggy tilted her head in confusion. “What?” She was unaccustomed to this type of hedging. Once she made a decision to do something, she liked to move boldly forward. She did not try to soften the blow with wine or food. This wasn’t a matter of national security, after all.

“But Peggy, you don’t understand. You can’t just--”

“Oh, sod it,” and with that Peggy turned, swiftly striding back into the dining room. She cleared her throat, glancing briefly at each of Angie’s family members in turn. “Angie is pregnant. She’s having my baby,” she declared. When that elicited no response, she continued. “We are in love. We’re married. We’ve been married for three years, actually.” As an aside, she added, “Sorry we didn’t invite you to the wedding. I think you understand why.” Peggy paused momentarily, and then began again, speaking more rapidly than before. “You see, Howard Stark employs a number of very talented scientists who have developed some very advanced technology. By virtue of my association with him, we were granted access to a, well... a process of sorts that enabled us to conceive as if we were a man and woman. Now, while I’m not certain of the specifics--” Peggy stopped when she felt a hand on her arm. It was Angie.

“Peg, I think that’s enough for now,” she said softly, coming forward to stand next to Peggy.

Angie’s family sat in stunned silence until her mother finally spoke. “Angela, is this true?”

“Yeah, Ma. It’s true.”

Maria looked at her daughter, then down at her plate, then back at her daughter. Wringing her napkin in her hands she said, “I don’t understand.”

“Honestly, I don’t really understand, either, but I’m pregnant,” Angie said, placing her hand over her belly, “And Peggy is the father.”

Vittoria, who had been sitting silently, gripping her fork, throughout the exchange, suddenly dropped the utensil and pushed her chair back. The clank followed by the squeal of her chair on the wood floor caught everyone’s attention, but Angie’s grandmother said nothing, she just turned and left the room.

“Oh, you’ve upset her,” Maria admonished. “She’s old, and very devout, you know. It’s just too much for her.”

Angie started to cry. Peggy pulled her into an embrace, and her crying melted into convulsive sobs. Peggy stood, stroking Angie’s hair, quite unsure of her next move, until Joey rose from his seat and approached them.

He tapped Angie on the shoulder and waited for her to turn around. “Aw, come on, sis. Don’t cry.” He gave her a firm hug. “We still love ya.”

“Yeah?” Angie sniffled and attempted to wipe some of the tears from her face.

“Of course,” Joey said, laughing. “Plus, I always knew you were a bit strange.”

“Oh, shut up,” Angie said, punching him lightly in the shoulder.

At that point Vittoria shuffled back into the room, carrying a bundle of papers in her arms. She ignored Maria’s pleas for her to come sit at the table, and walked straight up to Angie. She handed her the bundle, and then reached up, taking Angie’s face gently in her hands.

“A  miracle,” she said, placing one hand reverently on Angie’s belly. “From the Blessed Virgin.”

 

* * *

 

When Peggy and Angie returned home later that evening, they were emotionally drained. They’d spent a harrowing, but ultimately positive, couple of hours with Angie’s family answering questions and reassuring Angie’s mother that she would indeed be receiving only the highest quality medical care, that in fact Howard Stark had in his employ one of the finest obstetricians in the country. After all of the tearful confessions and heartfelt explanations, the women were both quite tired, but more than that they were curious. They sat at the kitchen table and spread out the bundle of papers Angie’s grandmother had given her. They were all letters, of varying age, all written in Italian.

“So what are they about?” Angie asked, sifting through the stack of letters, some in worn envelopes addressed to Vittoria, some just loosely folded. They were most of them softened and discolored from being handled repeatedly.

Peggy unfolded one of them and began to read. “Oh my” she said, after a moment, “my Italian is a bit rusty. But I believe this is a love letter to your grandmother.” She looked up at Angie and then down at the letter again. “From another woman.”

“What?” Angie squeaked, snatching the letter out of Peggy’s hands. “Where does it say that?” she scrutinized the writing, but she was only able to decipher a handful of very simple words. Angie huffed and pushed the letter back at Peggy. “Read it,” she demanded, quickly adding a hasty, “please.”

Peggy shook her head, laughing. “As you wish.” She cleared her throat, for effect, and read aloud:

 

 

> _My darling Vita,_
> 
> _Tomorrow it will be two years since you left. It feels like it has been much longer, even though each day passes exactly as the last: gray, empty, a blur. Sleep is the only relief from my days spent haunted by the specter of your absence, for in repose I dream of you. Most often I dream of the last night we were together._
> 
> _Do you remember it? You stole a bottle of grappa from your father and we sat on the dock trading swigs while the sun set. We cried together, and kissed, our tears mingling. Later, after everyone had gone to sleep, we snuck back to your bedroom and made love. You tasted like the sea. I still taste you, even now. In the dark, in your bed, it was only the two of us. Nothing else existed. It was both the saddest and happiest moment of my life. I carry it with me, always._
> 
> _Vita, my love, my one and only love, please know that I will remain steadfast. I will be an ever-fixed mark, the star to your wandering bark. I will bear our love ‘till the edge of doom. This I promise you._
> 
> _Yours forever,_
> 
> _Serafina_

Peggy looked up from the letter, trying to read Angie’s expression. “Well…” she said, hoping Angie would say something.

“Wow,” was all she had to offer. “Just… wow.”

 

* * *

 

Angie was propped up in bed, various magazines and books strewn around her. A teacup and saucer were balanced perfectly on her belly. “Hiya Peg,” Angie said brightly, as Peggy entered, laden with shopping bags.

“Hello darling.” Peggy dropped the bags and came to sit next to Angie on their bed. “I see your mother has been here,” she said, indicating the reading materials spread in untidy stacks all over the comforter.

“She’s worried I’ll get bored.” Angie took a final sip of her tea before moving it to the nightstand. “But look! Joey brought me a bunch of his old comic books!” She held them up, smiling broadly.

“Any good?” Peggy asked, slipping off her shoes. She reclined next to Angie, lacing her fingers together behind her head.

“Some of ‘em.” Angie curled her body into Peggy’s side. “This is my favorite,” she said, producing a comic book with a costumed woman on the cover. She wore a red bodice emblazoned with a golden eagle, and a blue skirt decorated with white stars field of blue.  “It’s about a princess of a tribe of warrior women and they live on an island with no men.” Angie paused to waggle her eyebrows at her wife conspiratorially. “ _No_ _men_ , Pegs.”

“Sounds heavenly,” Peggy remarked, wrapping her arm around Angie’s shoulder.

“Divine,” Angie said, smiling, before she added thoughtfully, “You’re a lot like her, ya know.”

“Oh, really?” Peggy replied coyly.

“Yeah, Pegs. Rescuing people, standing up for what’s right, punching bad guys. That’s got you written all over it.”

“I suppose I can see the similarities.” Peggy paused, regarding the image of the warrior princess. “Although I must say I find her wardrobe choices rather suspect.”

“Oh, come on, Peg. I wouldn’t mind seeing you in that getup. You’ve got the legs for it.” Angie said, a devilish look in her eye. She leaned into Peggy, biting gently at her neck.

“Mrs. Carter, you cad!” Peggy said, giggling. She tilted her head back, allowing Angie better access to the soft skin under her jaw.

Angie kissed her way from Peggy’s neck down to her collarbone and began to slowly unbutton her shirt. She deftly plucked each mother-of-pearl button from its loop, planting nips and kisses on Peggy’s chest as she went. Once finished, Angie pulled Peggy’s blouse open and off triumphantly, as if she were pulling back the drapes in a room that had been shut up for the winter. A small moan grew in Angie’s throat as she marvelled at Peggy’s breasts, confined in her bra as they were. She reached for Peggy’s skirt, making quick work of the hooks and zipper.

“My goodness, you’re enthusiastic,” Peggy said, laughing. “Here, let me help you.” She lifted her hips off the bed so Angie could pull her skirt off.

Angie did so, flinging it halfway across the room. She then quickly and unceremoniously divested her wife of her remaining undergarments. Finally, Peggy was laid out bare before her, her chest rising and falling minutely. It sent a shiver of desire down her spine.

“Oh, Peg,” Angie whispered, gaze running along the curves and planes of Peggy’s body. “You’re pretty as a cupcake.”

Peggy blushed. Though they’d been together more than six years, she was still amazed by the look of adulation her body elicited from Angie. She found it quite wondrous, actually. Peggy had always regarded her own form with a pragmatic sort of indifference. She considered her body to be just one of the myriad tools in her arsenal. She certainly didn’t think it was anything worthy of the reverent awe with which Angie looked upon it.

“Come here, you little minx.” Peggy said, pulling her down into a kiss. It was soft, easy, familiar at first, but Angie’s zeal was infectious, and their kissing became forceful and sloppy. “Take this off,” Peggy breathed against Angie’s mouth, tugging on the belt of her bathrobe.

Angie quickly shrugged out of the robe, shifting onto her side cautiously, protective of her belly. She propped herself up on one elbow and placed her free hand on Peggy’s abdomen, splaying out her fingers. The two women continued to kiss, all the while Angie moved her hand in a haphazard path over Peggy’s body. She began just above the dark curls of Peggy’s pubic thatch, and moved up slowly, teasingly.

Peggy squirmed beneath her touch, ticklish, but when Angie brought her palm up to graze over her nipples, each in turn, she gasped. When Angie took a nipple between her fingers and pinched gently, Peggy moaned. And when Angie followed her fingers with her mouth, biting and sucking Peggy’s nipple, she cried out.

“Angie… oh, god.” Peggy grabbed the back of Angie’s head, clutching at her hair. “What did I ever do to deserve you?” she asked.

Angie looked up, releasing Peggy’s nipple with a pop. She grinned and said, “I don’t know, musta been something good,” before returning to the task at hand.

Angie loved Peggy’s breasts--the heft and weight of them, the velvety soft skin, the rough areolas capped with rosy buds that pebbled at the slightest provocation. Yes, they were truly something special, something to be worshipped, which is exactly what Angie did. She mapped each with her tongue, grazed Peggy’s skin with her teeth, stopped to bite gently at her nipples. Angie explored Peggy’s breasts with her mouth until the older woman was practically writhing underneath her.

Peggy moaned, grasping at Angie’s back. “Darling,” she panted, “why must you always tease me so?”

Angie said nothing, simply grinning up at her with a nipple between her lips.

“You’re going to make me beg, aren’t you?” Peggy asked, breathless, digging her nails into Angie’s shoulder blade.

At that, Angie took the nipple between her teeth and bit down none too gently. It sent an electric charge straight to Peggy’s sex.

“Oh, Jesus,” she whined. “Angie… I need you… please...” her pleas deteriorated into a wanton groan.

Angie acquiesced, even though she was not quite done teasing. She pressed her fingers into Peggy’s folds, skating over her clit and causing Peggy to buck her hips unashamedly. Angie laughed and made one more swipe over the sensitive nub of flesh before positioning two fingers at Peggy’s entrance.

“Is this what you want?” Angie asked, just barely dipping her fingertips inside and circling slowly.

All Peggy could do was clutch tighter at her lover and whimper, “Yes.”

Angie did not waste time after that. She plunged her fingers into Peggy, causing her to gasp. Angie moved in and out, starting slowly, gently, making sure to rub her thumb only lightly over Peggy’s clit. As she felt Peggy slowly open for her, Angie increased her speed and pressure, evoking a shuddering moan.

Peggy became caught up in the rhythm of her own keening, each cry accompanied by a shock of pleasure radiating out from her core. She did not quite sound like herself. The timbre of her voice was different somehow.

Angie took the opportunity to swallow Peggy’s cries with a kiss as she fucked her ever toward her impending climax. She could feel Peggy’s body stiffen and her muscles begin to clench around her fingers. This moment always made Angie feel intensely powerful. Peggy was always so measured and controlled, never a hair out of place, so to see her truly let go was thrilling. It was like holding lighting in the palm of her hand.

As Peggy came, Angie guided her gently through her release, drawing it out as much as she could. She stilled her hand as she felt one final great paroxysm rock Peggy’s frame. Angie only removed her fingers once she was certain Peggy’s quivering aftershocks had subsided.

“My god, Angie,” Peggy panted, placing her palm over her eyes. She took a deep, stuttering breath, and then all the sudden she was weeping. “Well, hell,” she muttered, swiping away tears.

“Baby, what’s the matter?” Angie asked as she planted little soothing kisses on Peggy’s forehead.

Peggy sniffled. “It appears that orgasm left me rather emotional.”

“Aw, Peg. Are you saying that I did ya so good it brought a tear to your eye?” Angie couldn’t help herself.

A small sob escaped Peggy’s throat at that moment. She turned and buried her head in the crook of Angie’s neck.

“Aw, shit, Peg. I didn’t mean to joke. C’mere.” Angie pulled Peggy up so they were both laying on their sides, face to face. She brushed a strand of hair out of Peggy’s eyes, curling it around the back of her ear, before she began to stroke her cheek lightly.

“I really don’t deserve you,” Peggy whispered.

Angie sighed, taking Peggy’s face in her hands. She placed her palms on Peggy’s cheeks, a thumb resting on each cheekbone. Her fingertips nestled in Peggy’s dark, soft curls. Angie briefly touched their foreheads together, and then kissed Peggy chastely on the lips. “Don’t be silly, Pegs. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me.”

“I assure you, darling, I’m not.” Peggy covered her wife’s hands with her own, turning her head briefly so she could kiss Angie’s palm. “The moment I married you, I put your life in danger. I made you a target. And yet I constantly leave you here alone. I’ve lied to you, kept things from you, betrayed your trust. I’m no good for you.”

“You listen to me, Margaret Carter.” Angie put on her best authoritative tone. “I’ll be the judge of what’s good for me. Besides,” Angie leaned forward to draw Peggy into a lingering kiss. “I knew the score when we got married. You’re stuck with me. There’s really no need for you to be so gloomy all the time.”

“Angie, I only--”

“Stop.” Angie said, suddenly. “Gimme your hand.” Angie took Peggy’s wrist and guided her hand down to her stomach. “Your baby is trying to say hello.”

Peggy rested her hand on her wife’s belly and felt nothing. She sighed, and was about to pull away when she felt the smallest flutter against her hand, like butterfly wings. It was incredible, a minute little movement, so easy to miss, and yet so enormous. “Angie!” she gasped. “That’s… that’s my baby?”

“That’s your baby, Pegs. Our miracle baby. And, if it’s okay with you, I want to name her Serafina.”


	4. Chapter 4

 

> _Serafina, my heart,_
> 
> _I married today, in front of a church full of fools. They all cheered and said it was a holy union before God. But I know the truth, you know the truth, God knows. I have been wed to you since the first night we made love, since you touched me inside, in a place no one else will ever touch. We were joined together in front of the Holy Virgin, who is Mother to us all. Our union was consummated at her altar. What She has brought together, no man can put asunder. For we are linked, now and forever, by the Immaculate Heart of our Mother._
> 
> _I will live the rest of my days devoted to you alone, and when death does take me my spirit will seek you out, wherever you may be. You are the North star, and I will follow you. You are the Seraphim, the highest choir of angel, the flaming serpent at the right hand of God. You are anointed, and so, then, is our love. Divine and eternal it is, was, and always will be. Let that sustain us while we are far apart._
> 
> _With love everlasting,_
> 
> _Vittoria_
> 
>  

* * *

 

“Why does your grandmother keep giving us all these statues and candles and bundles of yard waste?” Peggy asked as she picked up a statue of a woman bedecked in flowing blue robes and sporting a golden halo. The figure had one hand outstretched, palm up, and the other held to her chest below a flaming heart ringed with flowers. Peggy, momentarily mesmerized, brushed the heart with her fingertips before setting the statue back down and frowning at what she was certain was just a bundle of twigs tied with twine.

“It’s not _yard waste_.” Angie shot her an exasperated glance. “They’re offerings, for the saints.”

“Oh,” Peggy said hesitantly, obviously both confused and unimpressed.

“You make an offering to the saint, light the candle, and say the prayer. And whichever saint you prayed to will help you.”

Peggy scrunched up her features as if she’d smelled something spoiled.

”It’s not that weird-- stop making that face.” Angie said, sighing.

“I’m not making a face. What’s wrong with my face?”

“You’re just making your,” Angie’s face went stony as she affected a scowl, “‘I’m Peggy Carter, Director of SHIELD and I’ve no time for your silly fairy stories. The fate of the world rests in my hands!’ face.” Her voice had taken on a deep, dramatic tone.

Peggy pursed her lips, “I don’t do that.”

“You’re doing it right now!”

“Fine. You’re right,” Peggy finally conceded. “ I just didn’t realize there were… so many saints to pray to.”

“This is nothing, Pegs,” Angie said, gesturing to the makeshift altar that had gradually formed in their bedroom. “These are just for me and the baby. Well, except for that one.” She pointed at a statue of a winged man wearing an armored breastplate. He had a sword drawn, ready to vanquish a demon underfoot. “That’s St. Michael. He’s for you.”

“For me?” Peggy asked, scrutinizing the figure. He was actually quite beautiful, with golden curls, fair skin, and red lips. “Why do I need a saint?”

“Really, Pegs? I know you don’t run around playing shoot-em-up as much as you used to, but I still worry.” Angie reached out for Peggy, taking her by the hand and pulling her close. “St. Michael protects you, and helps you make good choices.”

Peggy let out a huff of disapproval. “I’m perfectly capable of making good choices without supernatural intervention, I assure you.”

 

* * *

 

All shoes were not equal when it came to the quality of the sound generated by the heel striking the marble floors of SHIELD headquarters. It did not take Peggy long to figure this out. While she was initially completely mortified that the reverberant clacking of her heels as she strode through the labyrinthine hallways sent people scurrying like frightened little mice, she began to embrace the fear she inspired in her staff.

She even arranged the shoes in her closet according to how intimidating they sounded. On days she was in a good mood, or she felt her staff needed a morale boost or some other sort of coddling, she would wear a pair of heels that made a softer sound. When she was angry, or had a meeting with an important (or particularly sexist) official, or just wanted to be left alone, she would wear the loud ones.

Today was an angry day, and to her surprise and delight, she’d seen nary an agent or administrative assistant all morning. That is, until her PA, Jonathan, knocked on the door to her office.

Peggy loosed a disgusted growl, making sure it was just loud enough for him to hear, before calling “Enter,” as dismissively as possible.

Jonathan ducked in, smiling apologetically. “So sorry to disturb you, Director Carter, but Howard Stark is on the phone for you.”

“Put him through,” Peggy said, rolling her eyes. When the phone on her desk finally rang, she picked it up and immediately said, “No. Whatever ill-advised nonsense you’re trying to drag me into, I won’t do it.”

“Come on. It’ll be fun. When’s the last time you saw some real action?”

“I believe that was the night before my wife threatened to leave me.” Peggy sighed, thinking of that day at the train station and the mess she’d nearly made of everything.

“But did she actually leave you?”

“Well... no,” she said hesitantly, knowing she was already trapped.

“You’ll be gone less than 24 hours. I swear.”

“Howard, it’s really not a good time. Certainly you can find someone else who can accompany you,” Peggy protested half-heartedly.

“Look, Peg, we’ll be in and out, no problem, really. You won’t even have to draw your gun.”

“I don’t think--”

“Peg, don’t worry. Everything will be fine. I’m sending a car over right now.”

“I can’t just leave Angie by herself. For Christ’s sake, Howard, she’s almost seven months pregnant.”

“Don’t you worry about the little woman, Peg. I’ve instructed Jarvis to be at her beck and call. Even as we speak he is ferrying Angie’s mother and grandmother to your home. They’re going to stay with Angie while you’re gone.”

Peggy was momentarily speechless. Who was this man on the other end of the phone? And what had he done with Howard?

“See? I think of everything. Car’ll be there in 20.” Howard said, then as an afterthought hastily added, “Oh, and do bring the Walther this time. Maybe an extra magazine.” And then he hung up.

Peggy groaned heavily, pinching the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger. _Christ_ , she thought. She really needed to stop taking Howard’s calls.

 

* * *

 

Angie knew Peggy was running off on another mission before she even saw her. The heavy thud of her boots in the hallway was a dead giveaway. The sound was flat, muted, so unlike the bright staccato of the high-heeled shoes Peggy normally wore home. She only wore the boots when she was leaving. By the time Peggy walked through their bedroom door Angie’s arms were already folded, her mouth set in a thin line.

“No. No no no. No, Pegs. You promised.” Angie started in, almost frantically, before Peggy could say anything. “You promised me you would stay out of trouble. You _promised_. Or did you forget all the things you said when you were begging me not to leave you?”

“Darling, please.” Peggy said softly, a note of desperation in her voice. “If there were anyone else who could go in my stead…”

“I don’t want to hear it, Peg.”

“Howard assures me we’ll be back in no time. It’s a simple extraction. Nothing to worry about.”

“Oh, really? Simple.” Angie squared her jaw and put her hands on her hips. “How many guns are you carrying?”

“No more than usual,” Peggy quickly offered, clearing her throat nervously.

By this point in their relationship, Angie had learned Peggy’s gun-wearing habits. She knew that Peggy liked to wear her primary weapon on her right hip, and her secondary strapped to her right thigh. She also knew that Peggy sometimes stashed a third weapon in the small of her back, but only when she thought things might get particularly hairy.

Angie crossed the room to where Peggy was standing, still lingering in the doorway. She did not make eye contact or say a word, she simply reached under Peggy’s jacket and around to her back, where she immediately felt the cold metal of a gun inside a leather holster.

The look Angie affected was less angry and more disappointed. “For a spy, you are a terrible liar,” she said, defeated.

“Darling…”

Angie gripped Peggy by her shoulders, pushing her, maybe a little too hard, because when Peggy’s back hit the the wall she lost all the air in her lungs. Angie touched Peggy’s face, brushing her fingers along her hairline, and then her cheekbone.

Angie’s expression hardened, and she poked Peggy in the chest, forcefully, with her index finger. “I know it’s pointless for me to try and stop you,” she said as she reached for Peggy’s hands and brought them both to her belly. “But don’t you forget who is waiting for you here.”

“I would never--”

Angie silenced her wife with a rough kiss, biting Peggy’s bottom lip.

“Dammit,” Peggy said, wincing and pulling back. “That hurt.” She was about to further express her irritation, but when she saw the tears gathering in Angie’s eyes she embraced her, planting kisses on the side of her face and in her hair.

“Just come back to us, ok? We need you.” Angie kissed Peggy again, gentler this time. She grabbed fistfuls of Peggy’s jacket and pulled her close, uncomfortably so, but Angie didn’t care, and neither did Peggy. They needed to be this close, mashed together, their unborn child solid between them.

“I love you,” Peggy said, wiping tears from Angie’s cheeks with her thumbs.

“I love you, too.” Angie breathed, touching her forehead to Peggy’s. “Now get out of here. The sooner you leave the sooner you’ll be back.”

 

* * *

 

Howard’s “simple extraction” had been  nowhere near simple, and Peggy had, indeed, needed to use the Walther holstered at her back. Fortunately, however, they both escaped relatively unscathed and were able to deposit the asset at its destination with no further incident. In fact, they were set to arrive back in New York within Howard’s promised 24-hour window, a fact that shocked no one more than Howard himself.

They were standing on the tarmac outside one of Howard’s many private airplane hangars, sharing a celebratory bourbon before the flight home. Howard was smug as ever, and Peggy was almost cheerful, happy to be on the tail end of this escapade, mere hours away from a hot shower, a warm bed, and her wife’s embrace.

Peggy was climbing the stairs onto the plane, looking forward to a quiet ride and maybe another stiff drink, when a man in a grey Stark Industries jumpsuit came trotting up to them. “Director Carter!” he nearly shouted.

Peggy whirled around, “This better be important.”

The man nodded emphatically, “Mr. Jarvis is on the phone for you. He says he’s been trying to reach you.”

There was only one reason Jarvis would try to contact her in the field: _Angie_. The last thing Peggy remembered after that was the dread sinking in, heavy and sickening in the pit of her stomach. She didn’t remember pushing past Howard, almost knocking him over, or grabbing the man and running, or even the frantic phone conversation with Jarvis. But she was now standing in the office attached to the hangar, staring at the wall and gripping the phone’s handset as if it were a lifeline.

“Carter!” Howard yelled, trying to break her out of her trance.

Peggy jumped and dropped the phone. She turned toward him swiftly, saying nothing, and punched him in the nose.

Howard reared back, bellowing angrily. “What the hell, woman?! What did I do?”

“She’s at Our Lady of Mercy. We need to leave. _NOW_.”

“Oh, Jesus, Peg. Angie?” Howard actually looked panicked, for once. He gathered himself quickly, though. “Ok. Well, that piece of junk won’t do.” Howard pointed out the window at the plane they’d been about to board. “I’ve got an _experimental aircraft_ that’ll land right on the hospital’s helipad.” He nodded, wiping a bit of blood from under his nose. “Yes, that should work just fine.”

When Peggy saw the plane, she was dubious. “How can you be so certain the landing pad will accommodate this monster?”

Howard smirked, saying, “Our Lady of Mercy is one of Stark Industries’ charity projects. I built the damned hospital, and I don’t skimp where it counts.”

 

* * *

 

As it turned out, the helipad was plenty large for Stark’s plane, and they were able to land with no problem. They’d barely touched down when Peggy threw open the hatch and leapt out. After catching her balance and locating the door, she set out at a dead run.

Two security guards, obviously alarmed by the surprise landing of a mystery aircraft, approached Peggy, but she did not acknowledge either of them, or stop. A third, unlucky guard tried to block her path and was rewarded with an elbow to the face and a swift kick to the gut. He fell backwards, groaning, the wind knocked out of him.

Peggy did not notice or care what happened after her boot connected with the guard’s midsection. She had one thing and one thing only on her mind: _find Angie_. She breached the building, descended two floors by jumping down the stairs half a flight at a time, and finally burst out onto the floor of the pediatric ward.

Peggy grabbed the first nurse she saw. “Obstetrics!” she cried, near hysterics, “Where?”

The nurse eyed her hesitantly, at first, but when she noticed Peggy’s frenzied, wild-eyed look, she decided it would be best to just give her whatever information she wanted. She pointed down a corridor ahead of them. “Take a right, then a left, and then down to the third floor.”

Peggy darted down the hall in the direction indicated by the nurse, deftly avoiding a wheelchair in her path as she went.

“You need to check in with the front desk!” the woman called after Peggy, even though she knew it was no use.

As soon as Peggy disappeared around the corner, the two still-conscious security guards from the rooftop, followed closely by Howard, crashed through the same door Peggy had come through. Unlike Peggy, whose entrance went mostly unnoticed, the three men created quite a ruckus, falling through the doorway and into a supply cart, startling everyone in the immediate area.

The security guards righted the cart, coughing and sputtering, trying to catch their breath. One was doubled over and wheezing. The other looked at the nurse, opening his mouth to ask a question.

Before he could speak, the woman pointed, shaking her head. “That way,” she said as she shrugged and then turned back to sorting charts, as she had been doing before she was so rudely interrupted by a crazed woman and her pursuers.

All Howard could do was follow after the bumbling guards. “Boys, boys, please,” he said from not far behind them. “She’s just looking for her…”  Howard swallowed a lump that had unexpectedly arisen in his throat, “friend.”

 

* * *

 

Peggy ran through the hospital, vision blurry, heart beating like thunder in her ears. She had to find Angie. She would break down every door in the blasted place to get to her. She just had to find her. Angie had to be ok. Peggy could not bear the thought of losing her. She felt a jolt of anguish wrack her body as she considered the possibility. No. She had to be ok. Peggy would find her.

When she got to the nurse’s station for the obstetrics ward, she had to steel herself a moment before she could speak. She swallowed, saying, as calmly as possible, “Angela Carter-- I need to know what room she’s in.”

“I’m sorry, hon. Visiting hours are over. Only the father is allowed in there right now.” the nurse replied, eyeing her suspiciously.

“I _am_ the father.” Peggy said, taking a deep breath. She reached down to her right hip and let her hand hover over the grip of her gun. She knew what came next.

“Excuse me?” the woman said as she reached for her phone, no doubt so she could dial security.

Peggy slowly pulled the gun out of its holster and pointed it directly at the woman at the desk in front of her. _“_ What. Room.” she asked, her voice cold and hard. She hated having to scare people, but she did not have time to be diplomatic.

The nurse’s eyes went wide. “Wh-wh-what was the name?” she stammered.

“Carter. Angela Carter.” Peggy lowered the gun.

The woman looked down at her notebook and read, “Room 319.” When she looked up, Peggy was gone.

 

* * *

 

 _313, 315, 317_ , Peggy counted the plaques as she passed them. Then she saw it. **319**. Thank god. She dove for the door, flinging it open. “Angie!” she yelled, scrambling toward the bed in the center of the hospital suite. Peggy stopped dead when she finally saw her, looking beatific, as she always did, even though her hair was limp and her face pale.

“Peg? What are you--”

And that’s when the guards tackled Peggy. There were four of them at this point, and they all went down with her.

“Peg!” Angie leaned forward in the bed. She was alarmed at first, but after a moment she realized what had most likely happened: Peggy had rushed back from god-knows-where to come to her rescue and had entered the hospital without following proper protocol, much to the chagrin of the security team.

Howard finally caught up to them, rounding the corner just in time to see Peggy rise from the ground, shaking off all four of the men with an adrenaline-fueled roar.

“Fellas, please, come with me. Let’s chat outside for a moment,” he said as he motioned to the guards, who-- largely because they were intimidated by Peggy’s seemingly preternatural strength-- agreed and followed him into the hallway, closing the door behind them.

When they were finally alone, Angie reached out her hand to Peggy. “You couldn’t just come through the front door, could you?”

“I had to find you,” Peggy mumbled, picking up Angie’s hand and kissing her knuckles. “I got here as fast as I could.” She sat down on the edge of Angie’s bed.

“I know. I wasn’t expecting you for another six hours or so. Jarvis said that was as fast as you’d possibly be able to make it here.”

“We took one of Howard’s jets. We landed on the roof.”

Angie laughed, “Well, no wonder those men were after you. Margaret Carter, you know better than that.” She studied her wife, who looked the opposite of her normally perfectly-composed self. Peggy’s hair was an awful mess and she wore not a stitch of makeup. Her jacket was ripped, her shirt was untucked (not to mentioned buttoned incorrectly), and only one of her boots was tied. She’d never looked worse, frankly.

“Darling, what happened to you?” Peggy asked.

“Well, this morning when I woke up I was feeling pretty dizzy, and then I fainted. Ma called an ambulance and they brought me here. Doc says I have real high blood pressure and that I was lucky I came to the hospital when I did.”

Peggy was horrified. She couldn’t believe she let Howard tempt her into going on mission yet again. What a pathetic excuse for a spouse she’d been, and after she made all those promises, too. Peggy began to cry, overcome with guilt.

“Oh, Peg. We’re ok.” Angie cupped the side of Peggy’s face. “The baby’s fine. I’m fine. But I am on bed rest until she’s born.”

“I won’t leave you again, I promise.” Peggy’s said, her voice quavering. “No more field work. None. I mean it this time. And I’ll work 100% out of my home office.” She squeezed Angie’s hand. “I can send a proxy to any meetings that require my presence. Jonathan can handle everything else. I won’t leave your side. I swear on my life.”

“I’m going to hold you to that,” Angie said, smiling and reaching down to fix the buttons of Peggy’s shirt. She straightened Peggy’s collar, smoothed down the front as best she could. “Whatever would you do without me, Pegs?” Angie asked.

“I don’t know, darling.” Peggy replied. “I just don’t know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like we wrote this chapter really quickly. It was definitely a lot of fun to write. I really hope you like it, and the direction it's taking. 
> 
> Thank you for all your comments and kudos! <3 -drifitzmonster


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning: this chapter is heavy on the OCs and heavy on the angst.

 

> Dearest Serafina,
> 
> I am afraid my longing for you has turned me into a terrible person. It makes me hate my husband. He is not a bad man. He is good, and kind. But he is not you, and I hate him for it. I hate the sound of his voice. I hate the way he looks at me. I hate it when he touches me. I wish he would die.
> 
> I pray to the Blessed Virgin, and ask her to remove hate from my heart, but secretly I don’t want her to. If the hate is gone, all that’s left is sorrow, and I cannot live on sorrow alone. Please believe me that my love for you grows every day, but it only causes me to miss you more and more. Sometimes I wonder how much longer I can endure being without you. I miss you so much. I can only pray the Merciful Virgin takes pity upon me and puts you safely in my arms again.
> 
> Love always,
> 
> Vita
> 
>  

* * *

 

> Vita,
> 
> Mama wants me to marry. She says if I don’t find a husband she’ll send me to work on Uncle’s farm. She says if I want to wear trousers and run around like a man I can work like a man. She says I’ll have to till the ground with a pickaxe. She says Uncle will work me until my fingers bleed. I told her I don’t care. I’d rather break rocks all day for the rest of my life than marry some horrible oaf and bear him a litter.
> 
> I told her I would throw myself into the ocean before I’d ever marry a man, that I would not suffer like you have. And oh how you have suffered. I will never forgive myself that I was not able to save you from that fate. I hate that you’re married to that man, but I know it’s not your fault. I know you had no choice.
> 
> I will come for you. I swear it. I will find my way to you and we _will_ be together. My love for you is stronger than any force. It burns hotter than any fire. It drives me forward, always, and every step I take is one closer to you.
> 
> With all of my body, heart, and soul,
> 
> Serafina
> 
>  

* * *

 

After Angie was released from the hospital Jarvis started stopping by the mansion almost daily, “just to chat,” he claimed. Peggy was quite sure it was Howard’s way of checking up on her. It seemed like of late both Howard and Jarvis had been keeping an especially close eye on the both of them. Peggy found it rather insulting, patronizing even-- though she couldn’t say that it was wholly unwarranted. She _had_ broken a man’s nose, and another’s ribs, not to mention she’d drawn her weapon on an innocent civilian.

Clearly, Peggy was not in her right mind. Maybe it was better she was stuck at home. She could get out of her head, focus on taking care of Angie and preparing their home for the baby. Their miracle baby. It still didn't seem real-- at least, not to Peggy.

But she wasn’t the one growing a baby.

Angie, on the other hand, was constantly confronted with the reality of their decision. Reality danced on her bladder, leeched calcium from her bones, flooded her system with hormones that made her weepy and irritable. Her body had become foreign to her, and she felt awkward and unwieldy no matter what she was trying to do. The act of standing up had even become an ordeal.

Angie didn’t care, though. She was tired of lying in bed all day and being waited on by meddlesome but well-meaning loved ones whose worlds seemed to hinge on whether or not she was feeling light-headed. It was driving her nuts.

So she was going to have tea. And she would make it herself. Boil the water and everything. She got as far as opening the kitchen cabinet before Peggy caught her.

“Angie!” Peggy yelped in surprise. “What are you doing?”

“I’m making tea,” she answered flatly.

“Sit down, sit down, I’ll do it. You shouldn’t be up,” Peggy admonished, trying to lead Angie to a chair.

“No.”

“Darling, the doctor--”

“I don’t care about the damned doctor, Peg!” Angie lashed out. “I’ve been stuck up there in that bed for _so long_. I can’t take it anymore. I have to do something for myself, please. I just want to make some tea.” Angie was flustered, her face reddened and eyes moist.

Seeing that Angie was getting worked up, Peggy backed off. “Ok, ok… You’re right, darling. Of course you can make your tea. I’m sorry I’ve been so pushy lately.”

“It’s ok. I just…” Angie crumpled. She could not stop herself from crying, try as she might to shake the tears off.

Peggy quickly drew her into an embrace, speaking softly into her ear. “My love, my beautiful wife, I love you so, so much. You are the strongest person I know.”

Angie sniffled. “Really?”

“Yes, really.”

“I love you too, Peg.”

“What do you say I run fetch your wool dressing gown and we’ll take tea on the patio? Maybe go for a stroll around the garden after?”

“That would be lovely.”

“Splendid.” Peggy reluctantly loosened her hold on her wife, leaving a quick kiss on her cheek. “Make me a cup?”

“Sure, Pegs.” Angie smiled happily, pulling another cup and saucer down from the cabinet.

 

* * *

 

> Serafina,
> 
> It has taken me a long time to work up the courage to write to you, to tell you this: I am pregnant. At first I thought it was a terrible curse, but last night, my love, something wonderful happened. Our Mother came to me in a dream. She told me that Domenico is not the true father of my baby. She said the baby has no father, but is conceived of you and I. Our love has been made flesh by our Holy Mother and her Immaculate Heart.
> 
> Our prayers have been answered, my heart. We will be together. Our Mother has blessed our union with this child. It is only a matter of time. Be patient my love, my only. Every day spent apart will only make our reunion all the sweeter.
> 
> Love,
> 
> Your Vita
> 
>  

* * *

 

> Vita,
> 
> I know you want me to be happy, but it is so hard. The Blessed Virgin has given us this child, but I am stuck here without you. We have been apart for almost five years. The weight of it is too much to bear. I am so alone. I will never know what you smell like first thing in the morning. I will never hear the soft sounds you make as you fall asleep at night. I will never feel you curled tightly against me in a bed we share. And now, you are growing full with our love without me. You have our baby, and all I have is your ghost.
> 
> I try to save money, but it is near impossible. Uncle says every spare cent must go to our family in the city. And there is hardly any money to speak of. I have been able to save a few pennies here and there, but this year the ground is unforgiving, the crops are sad and sickly, and the goats do not produce as they should. Sometimes I think we are being punished. Why would our loving Mother see fit to keep us apart if we have not done something wrong?
> 
> Would that I did not need to eat. It’s such a waste of money. I tried not to, I promise you. I lasted three days before I fainted out in the pasture. Uncle was so angry, and now he watches me each morning and night to make sure I eat. He gives me extra milk, says I am no good to him a weakling.
> 
> But I _am_ weak. I try to have faith like you, but it keeps getting harder and harder. My biggest fear is not that I will never see you again, but that I will forget you. I fear I will forget your face, your beautiful face. I fear I will forget the way your skin feels and the sound of your laugh. I feel you fading from my memory a little more every day. It seems so impossible that we will be together again. All I have left is a puff of smoke. And when that is gone I know I will die. I am so sorry I’m not stronger.
> 
> Love,
> 
> Serafina
> 
>  

* * *

 

Peggy lost track of the number of times Angie made her read the letters. Almost nightly Angie would sit next to her in their bed, gripping her hand and weeping quietly while Peggy translated. Every once and awhile Angie would stop her from reading by pulling her into a tearful, anguished kiss. Angie would then bury her face in the crook of Peggy’s shoulder and cry herself out, at which point Peggy would refuse to continue and tell her wife it was time for bed. The two of them would lie together, Angie curled around her belly, Peggy curled around her, feeling an occasional sob hit Angie’s body. When Angie had finally stilled completely and her breathing was rhythmic and even, Peggy would finally close her eyes and let sleep take her.

Eventually, it became too much for Peggy. One night, after she’d read the letters and let Angie cry, Peggy took Angie by the shoulders and looked her in they eye. “I can’t bear to see you like this. We have to stop,” she said, wrapping Angie in a tight embrace. Peggy leaned back and settled her wife against her chest, stroking her hair. It was as comforting for Peggy as she imagined it was for Angie. The two of them sat, just holding each other, for some time, until Angie finally broke the silence.

“Can you imagine, Peg?” Angie asked softly. She looked up at Peggy. “Can you imagine if we were separated by a whole ocean? Living different lives, without each other?” She began to cry again.

Peggy took Angie’s face gently in her hands and kissed her. “Oh, my darling,” she breathed against Angie’s lips, “that would be dreadful, but we’re not apart. I’m right here,” she said, pressing her forehead to Angie’s. “I’m not going anywhere. I swear it.”

“I just can’t stop thinking about it. I feel like my heart is breaking.”

“My sweet love, it’s ok,” Peggy cooed, stroking the side of Angie’s face.

“You don’t understand, Peg. It could have been me,” Angie said, sniffling. “If we never met. If you hadn’t started coming to the automat…” she shuddered. “There were lots of fellas interested in me. You can only turn down so many before people start to ask questions.”

Peggy’s heart sank. Angie was right, wasn’t she? Peggy herself was in a very privileged position due to her service with Captain America during the War and her association with Howard Stark. But Angie was just a working-class Italian girl from Brooklyn. What agency had she to defy societal expectations? Angie would have almost certainly ended up in a loveless marriage to whichever man finally wore down her resistance. The thought was absolutely sickening.

“It could have been me,” Angie kept repeating.

“Darling, but it’s not. You’re here with me now, and we’re married and you’re about to have our baby. You’re safe. You don’t have to worry about that sort of thing anymore.”

“Peggy, what are you talking about? I never stop worrying. What if something happens to you? What if you decide we’re too much for you?” Angie placed her hand over her belly protectively. “What if you get killed while you’re out there trying to save the world? _What if you leave us_?”

“I’d make sure the two of you were taken care of, if something ever did happen.”

“I don’t need to be ‘taken care of,’ Peg. I need you.” Angie began to kiss Peggy frantically. She kissed her again. And again, roughly this time. Angie cried into the kisses, clutching at the lapels of Peggy’s robe. “Peggy, I _need_ you,” she whimpered. It was a desperate plea more than it was a statement, and Peggy knew exactly what she meant.

Angie needed comfort and reassurance that only Peggy’s hands on her body could provide. She needed to be anchored and present. She needed something-- someone-- to hold onto so she would not be swallowed up by grief. Angie needed respite from the thoughts that were plaguing her, and Peggy could at least give her that, if only briefly.

Peggy laid Angie down and quietly disrobed her. There were no words that could soothe her like Peggy’s touch could, so she said nothing, she simply kissed and caressed her way along Angie’s body. She moved slowly and painstakingly, using feather-light touches. The brush of Peggy’s fingertips and the gentle raking of her nails made Angie’s skin tingle and sent shivers down her spine.

Still Angie wept, and Peggy kissed away her tears. She kissed her way down Angie’s neck, pausing to lick into the hollow of her throat. Peggy moved slowly back up, following the line of her jaw.

“My precious darling,” Peggy breathed against the shell of Angie’s ear. “I love you so very much.” She moved to bring their lips together, kissing Angie slowly. Peggy made clear her intentions to take the lead, licking into Angie’s mouth, coaxing her open.  “Do you know how much I love you?” she asked.

Angie looked up and gave Peggy a watery smile.

“Can I show you?”

Angie nodded meekly, lowering her eyes and blushing.

That was all the answer Peggy needed. She moved gradually down her wife’s body, planting kisses as she went. She stopped briefly to lavish attention on Angie’s tender breasts, licking her nipples with softened tongue, suckling gently, so very gently. Angie whimpered, pushing herself into Peggy’s mouth. Peggy smiled and moved lower, brushing her lips over the swell of Angie’s belly.

Angie was buzzing. She felt diffuse, blurry all over except for each point of contact with Peggy she felt with exceptional clarity. It was sharp, almost painful. She felt caught underwater, drowning in sensation, and it was exactly what she needed. She could think of almost nothing but the rough pads of Peggy’s fingers as they etched lines into her skin.

Peggy grabbed Angie gently by the hips and pulled her to the edge of the bed, dropping to her knees in between Angie’s legs. She felt the overwhelming need to be with Angie, to be as close to her as she could, to be joined, truly, if only momentarily. To that end she gently slid her hands along the inside of Angie’s thighs and into the soft, auburn curls that covered her mound, relishing the soft cry that spilled from Angie’s throat.

Peggy looked at her wife spread out before her. Angie was absolutely breathtaking. Her flushed skin glowed under a sheen of sweat, and her sex was puffy, her lips pink and petaled open. Peggy couldn’t help but touch, moving her hand through Angie’s slick folds. She was so warm and wet underneath Peggy’s fingertips, her clit a firm bud crowning her opening.

“My darling,” Peggy whispered. “You’re just so beautiful.” She laid a quick nip and a kiss on Angie’s inner thigh before she lowered her head and began to lap at her wife’s center. Peggy shuddered in delight as she felt Angie’s warm, thick arousal spill onto her tongue. Angie moaned and canted her hips forward, encouraging Peggy to lick more vigorously. Peggy moved her attention to Angie’s clit and swirled her tongue around it lightly, slowly ratcheting up the pressure and speed, until Angie’s legs began to shake involuntarily.

Angie gasped, clutching desperately at Peggy’s shoulders. “Come here and kiss me,” she said breathlessly.

Peggy moved up Angie’s body, replacing her mouth with her hand over Angie’s core. She wasted no time before laying Angie back and kissing her fiercely. Peggy sought entrance to Angie’s mouth, moving her tongue in time with the circles she was rubbing over Angie’s sex. A stuttering moan began to grow in Angie’s throat, gradually becoming louder and more wanton.

As Peggy continued her gentle assault of her wife’s clit, she could feel Angie starting to let go, but she wanted to push her further, until her fear and worries were gone. Peggy wanted to obliterate the agonizing pain, if only for the span of the orgasms she would draw from Angie’s body tonight. Peggy moved two fingers to Angie’s entrance, only applying the slightest pressure there, but it still caused the pregnant woman to cry out.

Angie looked up at Peggy pleadingly, nodding. “Please,” she breathed, no more than a whisper.

Peggy kissed Angie as she began to fuck her, fingers and tongue entering in unison. She was so gentle, and almost impossibly slow at first, moving in and then pausing just to relish being _inside_ Angie. There was nothing better. Peggy was content to stay as she was, sheathed in Angie’s heat but unmoving, while she kissed her wife’s neck. Angie’s pitiful whimpers, however, prompted Peggy to begin a steady rhythm, plunging in and then curling her fingers as she pulled back out, making sure to run them along the sensitive ridge of flesh along her front wall.

“Oh, god, Peg,” Angie gasped, digging her nails into her wife’s shoulders. “Don’t stop.” She rolled her hips forward, meeting Peggy’s thrusts, crying out every time she hit particularly deep. Angie finally, finally just let everything go, emptying her mind completely. All that was left was Peggy’s mouth on her skin and Peggy’s fingers inside of her as they coaxed her towards her release.

Angie had never been this high on the crest of a climax before, even one with a buildup as slow as Peggy had given her. She was utterly overwhelmed and almost frightened by the intensity of the pulses as they hit her. Each felt like it was certainly the zenith that would send her crashing down, but it was not-- quite the opposite, in fact. When her orgasm finally did rip through her it was absolutely devastating. It came with violent, sustained contractions of her inner muscles and abs, and a heavy sob that ignited a bout of unrestrained crying. She cried until well after her aftershocks died down.

Peggy held her wife, rocking her gently, until she was done crying. She knew how badly Angie had needed to purge everything she’d been holding inside and was just happy she was finally able to. Peggy stroked Angie’s hair idly, occasionally laying kisses on her forehead or cheek.

“Promise me you’ll never leave?” Angie whispered into Peggy’s neck, punctuating the question with the brush of her lips.

Without hesitation Peggy answered. “I promise, my heart,” She drew Angie up into a slow kiss. “I promise I will never leave you.”

They both knew it was a lie, that Peggy could not possibly guarantee that nothing would ever happen to her, but it didn’t matter. It was a small mercy, and one they both gladly indulged in.

Peggy traced the contours of her wife’s face with her fingertips, working up the courage to say what she’d wanted to say since the first evening that she read Angie the letters. As much as she hated to disturb the quiet moment of peace, it was something that needed to be said.

“My darling,” Peggy began, drawing her thumb along Angie’s bottom lip. “You need to talk to your grandmother about the letters.”

“I just…” Angie looked up at Peggy, her eyes clouded with sadness once again. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Oh, Ange. I don’t know either, but we can’t go on like this. It’s not good for you. Or the baby.”

“I know, Peg. I’m nervous, though. What if she doesn’t want to talk about it? I don’t want to upset her.”

“She gave you all of those letters, my love. She wouldn’t have done that if she didn’t want to talk.”

Angie moved in as close to her wife as she could with her belly as big as it was. It pressed firmly into Peggy’s side. “Yeah, I guess you’re right,” she said.

“So you’ll talk to her?” Peggy found Angie’s hand and laced their fingers together.

“Yes.. I will.”

“I can stay with you, when you do. You know, for support,” Peggy suggested softly.

“No, that’s all right, Peg. This is something I need to do on my own.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We just want to say thank you to everyone who has stuck with us for this long, especially if you have left kudos or comments. We are so very grateful! The two of us have been friends forever but this fic is the first thing we've ever really collaborated on like this. It has been an incredible experience, in no small part because of all of you guys and your wonderful feedback. So thank you, again, truly.
> 
> And stay tuned because next chapter will have surprises, and feelings, and a baby! (finally!!)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So so sorry for the delay. We're going to try to wrap this story up in the next couple of chapters, which we will do our best to post in a timely fashion. 
> 
> Thank you to anyone who has stuck with us. <3

“My sweet Angelina.” Vittoria smiled, kissing Angie on the forehead and sitting on the bed next to her. “Your mama said you wanted to talk to me.”

“Yes, Nonna, I do.” Angie said, sighing. “It’s about the letters you gave me.”

“I know,” the old woman said softly. “I’ve been waiting for you to bring them up.”

“Why did you give them to me?”

Vittoria took Angie’s hand, placing it palm up in her lap. She covered it with her own, lacing their fingers together. “You know I’ve never showed them to anyone? I never talked about it. Not to your grandfather—God rest his soul—or your mother. Not a single person. And when you and Peggy came over for dinner that night I just knew I had to give them to you.”

“I’m really glad you did,” Angie remarked, squeezing her grandmother’s hand. “Nonna, can I ask you a question?”

“Anything, sweetheart.”

“Do you still love her?”

“She is the love of my life, sent to me by the Blessed Virgin. I will always love her.” 

“But Nonna, why aren’t you together? You love each other.”

“Oh, child. I don’t expect you to understand, but it’s not so simple. Life does not play by our rules. It was never possible, even though we wanted it to be. We were so young. And then all of the sudden I had two children and a husband…”

“Did you love Nonno?”

“In a way, I did. He was a good man, a good father.”

“But you never loved him like you love Serafina.”

“I will never love anyone the way I love her.”

“Then why don’t you go to her?”

Vittoria laughed mirthlessly. “It is much too late for that, I’m afraid.”

“But why?” 

“I broke her heart, long ago. She asked me to come back to Italy, but I couldn’t,” she said, her voice breaking. “I couldn’t leave my children, and I couldn’t steal them away from Domenico. He loved them so much. He loved  _ me _ so much, even though I didn’t deserve it.”

Angie began to weep quietly.

“Oh, no, I’ve upset you.” Vittoria reached up to wipe the tears from Angie’s cheek. “Don’t cry for me. I have borne this burden for so long. I am used to it.”

“Nonna, I just… You’re meant to be together!” she exclaimed, starting to sob.

Vittoria pulled her granddaughter into an embrace, stroking her hair. She softly sang a lullaby, one she’d sung many times before. The familiar song soothed Angie and soon she stopped crying.

“Don’t worry about me, Angelina. It is your time now. You have what I never could, and it brings me such joy to see you happy.”

“I love you, Nonna.”

“I love you too, bambina.”

 

* * *

 

Peggy had decided to go in to work for a bit while Angie and her grandmother spoke. She wanted to make sure they had the time and space they needed to talk. Plus, she relished the idea of alarming her staff with an unannounced visit—they needed to be kept on their toes, after all. And alarmed they certainly were when they heard the telltale clacking of her heels echoing down the corridors of SHIELD HQ.  _ It’s been too long _ , she thought cheerfully to herself as she watched them dart out of her way. She hadn’t even been away that long, frankly, and she’d been sure to make her presence felt via phone and via her PA while she was away.

After making the rounds, startling senior agents and support staff alike, interrogating a few of them to make sure all issues were being addressed to her satisfaction, she decided she’d make herself scarce in her office for a while. Peggy noticed everyone had begun to gather in little clumps to speak in conspiratorial whispers. She had no intention of trying to stop them. She knew it was pointless. Besides, they could always use something to bond over, even if it was rumors regarding her whereabouts for the past few weeks.

Peggy breathed a heavy sigh as she sat at her desk. “Hello, old friend,” she said quietly, running her hands along its carved wooden surface. It felt good to be back, but still a bit surreal. Her desk was oddly devoid of papers, as they had all been transferred to her home office. She opened a drawer, rifling briefly before she pulled out a bottle of scotch and one crystal tumbler. She poured herself a healthy portion, taking a swig and leaning back in her chair.

A knock at her door. It was Jonathon, her PA. “Director Carter.” He ducked his head minutely before entering. “Since you’re here I have some paperwork that needs your signature.” He handed her a folder that was surprisingly thick considering she’d spent what she’d felt was an inordinate amount of time signing stacks of papers just the day previous.

Peggy frowned. Jonathan quickly turned to leave but she stopped him with a hand on his arm.

“I could really use a cigarette.” She said, releasing him. “Someone around here has to have some. Would you be so kind as to ‘borrow’ a pack for me?”

“Of course, Director Carter.”

“Thank you.” As Jonathan slipped out the door Peggy called after him, “And no Winstons! You know I can’t stand those!”

Less than five minutes later Jonathan returned with matches, an ashtray, and a variety of cigarettes for Peggy to choose from. “Lucky Strikes, Chesterfields, or Camels?” He asked, setting the ashtray in front of her.

Peggy thought for a moment before saying, “Camel, I suppose.”

Jonathan produced a single cigarette, handed it to Peggy, and then quickly lit it for her. “Is there anything else you need right now, Director?”

“No, that will be all. Thank you.”

 

* * *

 

When Peggy returned from work she found Angie asleep in the overstuffed chair in their bedroom, clutching a worn copy of Carson McCullers’  _ The Heart is a Lonely Hunter _ against her chest. Peggy leaned down, kissing her wife on the forehead, and pulled the book gently out of her grasp. Peggy noted a highlighted passage: “The way I need you is a loneliness I cannot bear. I am not meant to be alone and without you who understand.”

“Oh, Angie,” Peggy whispered to herself, shaking her head. Her poor wife, she felt so deeply and so fully. Peggy hated to see her hurting. She reached out and brushed a strand of hair out of Angie’s face.

Angie stirred, “Peggy?” she asked, voice gravelly, eyes closed. “You’ve been smoking, haven’t you?” She grimaced, opening one eye.

“What? No, of course not.” Peggy quickly changed the subject. “How was the talk with your grandmother?”

Angie sat straight up and grabbed her arm. “You have to go get her.”

“Your grandmother? She was just here.”

“No, no. Serafina. You have to go to Italy and bring her back here.”

“Darling,” Peggy took Angie’s hands, squeezing gently. “We can talk about this after the baby comes, after everything has settled down.”

“No. Now. You have to go now. She has to be here for the birth.”

“Angie I can’t do that. I promised I wouldn’t leave your side.”

“Yeah? Well, you also promised you would do  _ anything  _ for me, and this is the anything I want you to do.”

“What if something happens? I can’t leave the bloody country. You’re due any day now.”

“Well, you’d better hurry then.”

“Angie…”

“ _ Peggy _ .”

And Peggy knew in that moment that her wife had won, and this was something she had to do.

 

* * *

 

A phone conversation:

“I need to borrow a plane.”

“Ok. When?”

“You’re not even going to ask what for?”

“After the incident at the hospital I figure it’s safer to just go along with whatever you’re doing. Less collateral damage that way.”

“Howard, I think you’re being a bit dramatic.”

“Peg, do you know how much it’s cost me to keep your little stunt out of the papers? Do you know how many people I had to pay off? I have to build an entire wing for the hospital!”

“You can certainly afford it.”

“Yeah, well I’m naming it after you: the Margaret E. Carter Cardiac Unit. And when you inevitably give me a heart attack you can tell the ambulance to take me there.”

“Oh, please. Like you haven’t given me more than your fair share of palpitations.”

“I shouldn’t have to be the responsible one. That’s your job.”

“Well if you don’t want to be the responsible one then don’t try to steal me away from my wife and child.”

“Point taken. So where are we going?”

“ _ We _ are not going anywhere.  _ I _ am going to Italy to find Angie’s grandmother’s long lost lover.”

“The dame from the letters?”

“How do you know about that?”

“Jarvis told me.”

“Yes. I am retrieving the ‘dame’ and bringing her back for the birth. Angie insisted.”

“The wife’s really got ya by the johnnies, ain’t she, Peg?” He almost ducked after he said it, momentarily forgetting he was safely separated from Peggy by several miles of phone line. 

“You’re disgusting. Besides, you know better than anyone that I was a goner the first time I laid eyes on her.”

 

* * *

 

Howard insisted that the plane land “on the books” at an actual airport, much to Peggy’s chagrin. It was a waste of precious time not to just land somewhere in the countryside near the farm, but as Howard was obsessed with avoiding an “international incident” and had given explicit instructions to the pilot not to let Peggy bully him, she decided she would acquiesce, just this once.

The role reversal was so strange to Peggy. She was so used to cleaning up after Howard, and now here he was, checking up on her, admonishing her for being imprudent. It seemed so out of character for him. Usually he loved skirting laws and getting into trouble.

Although the drive through the idyllic countryside was generally pleasant, it took longer than she would have liked to finally reach the farm, which Serafina had inherited after the death of her uncle. Peggy tried not to be irritated about being forced to land at the airport, even though it would have been much more efficient to park the damned plane in a field somewhere. She sighed heavily. She just wanted to be back stateside. 

She recalled vividly the last time she left Angie, and it sent a shiver down her spine. Peggy really hoped Serafina would be amenable to her plan. She had no idea what to expect. What if she didn’t want to come back with her? What if she couldn’t? She imagined Serafina had to be in her seventies, and god knows what fifty years of farm labor had done to her body. 

The farm itself was sprawling and obviously well-kept, nothing like the descriptions in the letters had led her to believe. There was a farmhouse on top of a hill that rolled gently down into a fenced pasture occupied by a few goats. Beyond the pasture was a stand of fruit trees, and beyond that was a field of what looked like wheat.

Peggy was gripped by anxiety as she walked along the gravel path to the front porch of the farmhouse. She hoped her Italian wasn’t too rusty. It had been a while since she’d last spoken it, but she imagined it was still serviceable, even after a few years. She knocked on the door, stepping back and straightening the collar of her shirt. After a few minutes with no answer she stepped closer again, peering into the windows to look for signs of life.

She was about to go snoop around back of the house when she heard a dog barking behind her. She turned to see a woman approaching, wearing brown trousers and a work shirt. She was flanked by two very large white dogs. They were almost beastly, if a bit slender. Their heads were large and square, and they were flop-eared and furry. 

The woman, almost certainly Serafina, looked extraordinarily young for someone who had to be in her mid 70s at least. She had long, white hair that was pulled back into a tight braid that hung against the back of her neck. She was lithe and tall, her skin a deep golden-bronze. As she extended her hand, Peggy noticed her well-muscled arms were dusted with gray hairs.

“If you’re here for eggs or cheese I’m afraid Mona has already taken them to the market.” the woman said. 

“Actually, I’m here to see you.” Peggy replied in her heavily-accented, slightly hesitant Italian. “Or, at least, I presume I am. Are you Serafina Tessaro?”

“I am.” she reached down and scratched one of her dogs behind the ears. “What can I do for you?”

“My name is Peggy Carter. I’m a friend of Vittoria Donati.”

Serafina’s face dropped. “Vita? Did something happen to her?”

“No, no, she’s fine.” Peggy was quick to reassure her. “Is there somewhere we could sit and talk?”

“Of course. Come inside. We’ll have a drink.”

Serafina led Peggy into the kitchen, motioning for her to sit at a small wooden table. She produced a bottle of liquor and two glasses.

“Grappa,” she said, pouring each of them a healthy dose. “So.” she emptied her glass. “Why has Vita sent you to me?”

“Vittoria doesn’t know I’m here, actually.” Peggy took a swig of the alcohol, grimacing slightly at the burn. “I’ve come to see you on behalf of her granddaughter, Angie. I’m her wife.”

“Wife? How is that possible?”

“It’s not strictly legal, but we had a ceremony. We’ve been together for six years.” Peggy pulled a picture of Angie out of her bag, gazing at it fondly before passing it to Serafina.

Serafina looked upon the photograph with wonder. “She looks so much like Vita.” she said, barely above a whisper. She traced the outline of Angie’s figure with her fingertip. “They could be sisters.” Her eyes welled with tears, but she bit them back, clearing her throat.

Peggy had spent the entire plane ride there trying to come up with the best way to broach the subject of the letters and Angie’s pregnancy. The correspondence between Serafina and Vittoria was so intensely personal—not to mention utterly heartbreaking—she was not sure if she should mention it straight away, or even at all. Never one to back down from a challenge, Peggy downed the rest of her drink and poured herself another, steeling herself.

“We’re having a baby, Angie and I.”

“A  baby? The two of you? But who is the father?”

“Well, technically, that would be me.”

A look passed over Serafina’s face that could only be described as haunted. “But how?” she asked quietly.

“That’s actually a  bit hard to explain…”

“It was a miracle?”

“I suppose you could say it was a miracle of sorts.” Peggy paused before adding, “Regardless of how it happened, the reason my wife sent me here to see you is that she wants you to come back to the U.S. with me so you can be present for the birth.”

“But why?”

“Vittoria gave Angie the letters you wrote to each other. We read them. We know you were in love and planned to reunite.”

Serafina silently stood and walked from the room. 

A moment later Peggy heard the front door open and then fall shut. “Well, bollocks.” she said to herself with an exasperated sigh. She weighed her options, decided that just waiting for Serafina to return was a waste of time, and followed her out of the house. The woman was nowhere to be seen, but one of her dogs sat in the middle of the yard, staring at Peggy and wagging its tail.

“Where’s she gone off to?” Peggy asked the animal, not expecting any sort of response. The dog whined before turning and trotting off towards a storage shed. “Well, then.” Peggy said to herself as she followed after it. She found Serafina sitting behind the shed on a wooden crate, attempting to roll a cigarette. 

“You found me,” she said, not looking up. Her hands were shaking. The cigarette paper and its contents kept falling and Peggy clasped her hands over the older woman’s before she could try one more time.

“Let me help you,” Peggy quickly and expertly rolled a cigarette, handed it over to Serafina, and held out a match for her to light it with. “A skill I picked up during the War.”

Serafina took a long drag, holding the smoke in for just a moment before she exhaled with a groan of relief. She regarded the lit tip of the cigarette in her hand before remarking, “Nasty habit, isn’t it?”

Peggy chuckled. “I’ve always found it to have its charms, although Angie would certainly agree with you. She’s made me promise to quit before the baby comes.” Peggy rolled herself a cigarette, partly because her nerves were shot and the nicotine would go far toward soothing her, and partly to give herself time to figure out what to say next. “You still love her.” 

It was not a question, merely a statement of fact. Peggy could see it in Serafina’s eyes. The woman loved Vittoria much as Peggy loved Angie, and Peggy’s love was all-consuming and unbreakable. 

Serafina smoked her cigarette down and stubbed it out before she answered. “I tried so hard to stop loving her because it was killing me, but I could not. I cannot. I will love her until the day I die and on into the next life. It is my burden to bear. I have found some modicum of happiness here,” she said, gesturing to the land around them, “but I will never be whole without her.”

Peggy reached out her hand and placed it gently on Serafina’s shoulder. “It’s not too late. You can go to her.”

Serafina let out a hollow, mirthless laugh. “When I was your age I would have thought so, too. I was young and idealistic once. But, no, child, I cannot go to her.”

“Why? You still love her.”

“I was selfish and broke her heart. I don’t deserve her—not that she would even have me after what I did to her.” Serafina pulled a flask from her pocket and took a long draw.

Peggy rolled each of them another cigarette before speaking. “What happened?”

“I sent all her letters back to her. Told her it hurt too much to keep writing.” she lowered her head, ashamed. “I promised to be steadfast. I failed her. How could she still love me?”

“She still loves you. She kept the letters for all this time. How could she  _ not _ love you?”

“I… I just can’t.”

“Please, you have to come back with me. It would mean so much to Angie, to both of us.”

“I’m afraid.”

Peggy took Serafina’s hands. “Don’t be afraid. She still loves you. She loves you just as much as you love her. She’s just as heartbroken as you are. You deserve to be happy, Serafina. You deserve to be whole again.” She paused, “You know, we’re naming the baby after you.”  

Serafina looked up at Peggy, seeing the note of pleading in her eyes. She screwed up her courage, swallowed down the lump in her throat. “Ok,” she said, finally.

 

* * *

 

Angie was sitting in the downstairs parlor with her mother and grandmother when she heard the creak of the front door. She froze, afraid to even turn and watch the doorway for their entrance. She’d not spoken to Peggy since before she left for Italy, so Angie had no idea whether her trip had been successful. When she saw her grandmother drop her cup of tea on the ground, however, she knew. Her head snapped around and there, standing next to Peggy, was a handsome, if nervous-looking, older woman. Serafina.

“Vita…” Serafina took a cautious step toward her long lost love.

“How can this be?” Vittoria rose from her seat, her whole body trembling.

“It's my fault, Nonna,” Angie said. “I begged Peggy to find her. I just... I couldn't let your story end that way.”

Vittoria stood in front of Serafina and hesitantly, almost timidly touched her face, brushing her fingers along the graceful arch of Serafina’s cheekbone. “How is it possible? You are still so young and I have grown so old.”

“Vita, cara mia. You're as beautiful as I remember,” Serafina said, tears brimming in her eyes. “I’m so sorry. I told myself my life would be easier if tried not to love you, but it was so much worse.”

“Oh, Sera, I never stopped loving you. You're the love of my life. You're all I’ve ever wanted.”

Tears erupted from the both of them and they fell into a deep embrace, kissing for the first time in fifty-eight years. The kiss was desperate and powerful, suffused with two lifetimes of pain and longing. When they finally broke apart they held each other tightly. They were so overcome they could not tell if they were laughing or crying, but it did not matter because they were together, at long last.

Peggy found herself struggling to hold back tears of her own. She went to her wife’s side, suddenly struck by the urge to hold onto her and never let go. 

“Pegs.”

“I know, my darling,” she whispered. “You did it.”

“No, Pegs,” she said urgently, grabbing her by the arm. “I think my water just broke.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... We may have lied about the baby finally coming in this chapter (oops). We didn't mean to. We promise the birth is literally the first thing that happens in the next chapter.


End file.
